


Tie Me By My Heart Alone

by yetanothereireannach



Category: The 100 (TV), clexa - Fandom
Genre: AU Modern Setting, Angst, BDSM, Clarke, Clexa, Drama, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff and Smut, I am taking liberties, I know nothing about london, Kind of fluffy, Lexa is a dominatrix, Lexa is a madame, Lexa is a total nerd, Lexa is afraid of love, Love, Other, Romance, Rough Sex, Secrets, Sex, Shameless Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, bit of BDSM, clarke has game, clarke is a doctor, drama and feels, happy ending is engame, happy fools in love, lexa - Freeform, pretty raunchy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 17:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetanothereireannach/pseuds/yetanothereireannach
Summary: The woman doesn’t move, but stands in the doorway with one hand on a curved hip and the other swinging a leather crop lazily by her side. The figure on their knees before her jumps when; as quick as a flash the crop is brought down with an almighty crack upon the woman’s now outstretched palm and then; she steps forward slowly, languidly, haunting green eyes hard and cold, a sculpted brow raised in consideration as she speaks in a low, clear and surprisingly feminine voice “I hear you have misbehaved?” Lips quiver with anticipation when the bent figure replies submissively “Yes, Commander.” The woman says nothing, her face stoic before she strides to the door and slams it shut. The woman slowly turns, face blank as she lightly taps the crop on her palm as she surveys the figure before her. Finally after what feels like forever the woman speaks, her voice bored but firm “Let’s get on with your punishment then. Get on all fours.” Summary: Lexa is a Madame, and Clarke is a doctor. Two fools meet, and fall in love, but as always, love is never easy.





	1. Everyone Has A Bad Day From Time To Time

**Author's Note:**

> Ok guys.... so this is a real change of pace :p I'm trying something new, something relatively light and with much shorter chapters than I usually write. Let me be clear on one thing before ye begin; At no time in this story will Lexa be actually having sex or any direct physical contact with any of her clients. This is not a BDSM fic, this is a fic about two nerds who fall in love... one of whom just happens to be a madame. There will be explicit scenes... sure, and some graphic descriptions but I repeat, this is not a BDSM fic guys. Give it a try, its gonna be good fun :
> 
> I am aiming for Bi-monthly chapters. Any questions or comments feel free to let me know, Im also on Tumblr under the name Yetanothereireannach

 

 

**Everyone Has A Bad Day From Time To Time**

 

 

It’s a windy night, and rain lashes down on the streets of Central London. A Taxi pulls up to the curb sloshing a tide of water in its wake, the door opens and out of the taxi steps a tall slender figure wrapped tightly in a jet black trench coat. Squinting against the rain the woman pulls the collar of her coat higher almost completely obscuring her young face.  Thick dark curls spill about her shoulders as she shifts and moves her unusually large leather briefcase from one hand to the other. She briefly glances around her before she raises her head to survey the luxurious high rise apartment complex before her. It’s large, stately and impressive, nestled in the very heart of London and quite obviously homes to the disgustingly wealthy.

The woman drops a hand to her pocket, withdrawing a phone as she begins to quickly and confidently march towards the building, striding past the doorman without a second glance and mounting the elevator in a steady silence; her face stoic and impassive as the elevator climbs until she hits the penthouse suite.

The elevator pings, and the doors open into a wide and sprawling luxurious apartment. The young woman steps out into the unbridled luxury and turns the corner to the sitting room, placing her heavy case upon the familiar leather sofa.

Sighing, she shakes the droplets of rain from carefully managed curls and undoes the buttons of her trench coat, shrugging it off and laying it neatly on the sofa. Curls fall into her eyes as she bends to click open the clasps on the briefcase and slowly lifts the heavy lid. With a pensive frown she lets her fingers run over the various objects in the case, and after a moment of deliberation she leans forward and plucks out her “weapon” of choice for the evening.

Object in hand, the figure confidently turns and starts down the corridor to which she knows ends in the master bedroom, stiletto heels clicking authorively as she makes her advance across the rich mahogany floors.

Reaching the bedrooms heavy door, the woman reaches forward and grasps then handle as she takes a deep breath; training her face into an inexpressive mask then with an abrupt turn of the handle she pushes the door open, hard.

In the middle of the room, on his knees before her is a man in his early sixties, hair turned to grey; dressed a tight pair of leather speedos and a studded collar. Right now he keeps his head bowed as his eyes glance up to look at her; his eyes alight with both trepidation and excitement.

This man is the venerable Dante Wallace, business man, entrepreneur and most recently, the largest private investor in London’s prestigious Ark hospital, located a stones through from the Thames, and a hairsbreadth from Kings College. Though his knees have started to ache his loins twitch with anticipation as he drinks in the woman before him; a stunning brunette with blazing green eyes, carefully lined with Kohl that just accentuates the severe expression across her stunning features. His eyes greedily rove over the tight black playsuit, the thigh high stockings and suspenders on interminable legs, topped off with six inch stiletto heels. He feasts on the plump lips painted crimson, feels his heart flutter at the firm set of her mouth, the slight mocking curl of her lip as her eyes observe him on his knees prostate before her, just as she had instructed him to be.

She doesn’t move, but stands in the door way with one hand on a curved hip and the other swinging a leather crop lazily by her side. Wallace jumps when; as quick as a flash the crop is brought down with an almighty crack upon the woman’s now outstretched palm and then she steps through; slowly, languidly, as she circles the man and lifts an eyebrow in consideration before she speaks in a low, clear and surprisingly feminine voice “I hear you have misbehaved, Mr Wallace?”

His lips quiver with anticipation when he replies submissively “Yes, Commander.” The woman says nothing, her face stoic before she strides to the door and slams it shut. The Woman slowly turns, face blank as she lightly taps the crop on her palm as she surveys the man. After a moment Wallace feels he could cut the tension with a knife, his entire body shaking with apprehension and excitement. Finally after what feels like forever the woman speaks, her voice bored but firm “Let’s get on with your punishment then, Mr Wallace. Get on all fours.”

The man licks his lips and smiles, bracing himself eagerly for the first lash.

XXX

An hour later the woman strides to the sitting room, closely followed by a slow moving Mr. Wallace; wrapped in a robe, a satisfied smirk upon his face. The woman shrugs on her trench coat and clips shut her case before she turns to the man and takes the cheque from his outstretched hand. He doesn’t look at her, but keeps his head bowed and the woman holds back a sigh of irritation and a roll of her eyes at the man’s ridiculous behaviour; some people take the whole Dom/Sub relationship to an impractical level, and now business has been conducted she truly has little patience for it.

Eager to make her way home the woman strides to the elevator and presses the button, waiting impatiently for its arrival. Wallace, at last seems to return to some semblance of normalcy as the woman proceeds to ignore him with grace. Obviously wanting to say something, judging from the way he opens his mouth and closes it again, and the woman goes against her better judgement as decides to ask him to state his business, after all; customer service is half this industry. “Is there something you wanted to say, Mr. Wallace?”

The man takes a deep breath, beginning his question anxiously but finding more confidence as he wears on; his shrewd attitude in business where he feels comfortable, powerful comes to the forefront as he fiddles with his cheque book.  “Commander, I...I was wondering... I know stated your rules, and I appreciate your service greatly but I was hoping perhaps we could take it to the next level? I would pay more obviously... much more.... whatever you wanted, but I would like greatly for our next session to be more... physical.”

The woman heaves an unimpressed sigh, her temper rising as she speaks in the firm cold voice of her persona “The Commander”- “Mr Wallace. I _was_ clear, was I not? - That I do _not_ perform that specific type of service. I am not a prostitute and will not, no matter how much you pay me, consent to any form of physical contact. If that is what you are looking for, I can recommend you a good number of Madame’s who are perhaps better suited to fulfilling your needs.”

Wallace swallows his disappointment and irritation of being refused but shakes his head vehemently “No... I don’t want anyone else. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have asked.”

The Commander regards him disdainfully before turning back towards the elevator “No, you shouldn’t have.”

The man works his jaw at the rebuke but ultimately swallows it, already eagerly looking forward to seeing the woman again “I’m sorry, yes, you were very clear. It’s just that I have never had _this_ kind of relationship with a call girl before... But I won’t suggest it again. Are you free same time next week?”

 

The woman glowers down at the little man and his unintended insult. She considers him a moment; the short, spoiled, pompous little man that is so unused to hearing the world no. The man is oblivious, falsely confident, and with a penis complex that rivals that of Donald Trump, and so she deduces that there is no point in trying to educate him further, and decides for the sake of time to let the “call girl” remark slide.  At last the elevator chimes and then woman slips her phone from the pocket of her coat and quickly opens the calendar.  

Scanning her next bookings she looks back up to the man and responds “No, Mr Wallace. I am not available before next month. I can make you my next available appointment?” The man huffs in frustration but nods, a petulant frown on his face. The woman enters the information into her appointments and steps into the waiting elevator, not looking back, nor offering word of parting. Turning around, she faces the open door and the lascivious Mr. Wallace who hovers, watching her leave. The woman stares forward with haunting green eyes, not acknowledging his existence as the door slowly closes and the elevator begins its descent.

 

XXX

 

The next morning in a small apartment in Camden town Lexa woods opens a set of tired eyes and tries to blink the sleep from them. Squinting to the clock mounted on the wall she grumbles, realising she has slept far too late she unwillingly drags herself from the bed, grabbing a spare blanket to protect her from the cold, and shuffles unsteadily from her room.

Immediately she is accosted by a pitiful and demanding yowl, almost tripping as an impatient calico cat weaves between her legs, demanding attention and food with no consideration for her owner’s lack of coffee. Lexa bends quickly and scratches the cat behind the ears, shushing her with a brief “Morning, Hufflepuff” before dragging herself to the kitchen.

Two minutes later, Hufflepuff the cat happily tucks into her breakfast while Lexa cradles a cup in her hands, inhaling the welcome scent of morning coffee.

When the cup is drained, and the cats desire for attention satisfied she heads to the bathroom and slips into the shower, scrubbing off the vestiges of last night’s make up that escaped the weary swipe of a makeup wipe, quickly washes her unruly curls and brushes her teeth in the downpour, before finally ready, she steps from the steaming spray.

Wrapped in a towel, Lexa pads from the bathroom with her wet curls cascading about her shoulders and comes to a stop before a huge, battered wardrobe. Lexa hauls open the door and surveys her options for the day, absentmindedly kicking her heavy black case further in and pushes aside her vast range of playsuits, opting for the soft grey shirt hanging before her and a pair of old, comfy high-waisted black jeans.

Underwear on and hopping on one foot, Lexa tugs on the jeans along with a pair of socks and then strides to the door, gathering up her black leather back pack, her beaten paper back of the week, phone and keys before slipping into her old pair of timberlands, and heading out the door.

 

XXX

 

At the same time, across the city in an apartment in borough of Brixton a blonde stands in the middle of a bare room, before a huge blank white canvas. The young woman is surrounded by colours, brush in hand and weeping before the empty frame as she struggles to think of something _, anything_ she could mark it with. After what seems like forever the woman lets the paintbrush drop with a sigh, and with shoulders slumped she drags herself to the kitchen of her tiny maisonette. A kettle is boiled, and the morose young woman half heartedly scoops out three spoonfuls of dehydrated coffee, splashes on water before adding milk, and more sugar than she probably should before taking a deep, weary slurp.

“How long has it been?” she thinks to herself; two months, maybe three? How long has it been since she has been able to paint anything worth mentioning? Longer probably... much longer. It’s been longer still since the girl actually managed to finish something, but she can’t bring herself to think about that... not now.

Glancing at the clock the girl knows she should probably get dressed, get out... she has been holed up all weekend in the house, just hoping that if she powered through she would be able to actually paint something, even if just by sheer force of will.

Sighing she mounts the stairs to the upper floor, a converted attic that now serves as her bedroom, luxurious and chaotic, the walls cluttered with photos, drawings and prints, the centre piece of the room being a large ornate carved bed, mounted with endless amounts of pillows and a luxurious comforter.

Eying the bed longingly, the woman forces herself to the wardrobe, pulling it open and sighing at the mess of clothes inside... she would really have to get into it, clear it out, fold everything and put it back in, but not today she thinks, just like she thinks every other morning. She decides on a pair of blue jeans and a loose black jumper, adding on an elaborate scarf for a splash of colour before she directs herself downstairs, picking up her bag and glaring at the phone in hand, noting a series of missed calls;  not calls she wants to return.

Biting back a grumble she hauls open the door, muttering a frustrated curse as the phone begins to buzz again in her hand.

XXX

 

Clarke Griffin shoulders through the crowd as she fights her way off the tube, rush hour is never a good time to travel but she just had to get out, get away from that empty canvas before she lost her mind. Clarke walks up the steps and steps out from Westminster station, she isn’t in a rush; not today. Her phone buzzes again but she impatiently glances down before knocking off the call and then directs herself to what has fast become her favourite coffee place in the city.  Clarke knew she would have to call her mother back eventually, after all she was supposed to be meeting her this afternoon at the hospital, but Clarke didn’t want to face that little fact, not yet... not until Indra had served her a Caramel Macchiato so good it had Clarke coming every morning on her way to the hospital, even though it wasn’t exactly on the way.

Five minutes later Clarke is walking past the high, shining windows of the new understated storefront and pushes open the door, sighing wearily when her phone chimes with a text, and then another. Clarke moves into the queue to stand being a curly haired brunette, swiping the lock screen open and exhaling a curse as she reads the message

_Clarke, answer your phone! The review for your suspension has been moved up to early afternoon. We need to get together to talk strategy, NOW.”_

As if her mother could sense she was looking at her text (Impossible, Clarke had her sent receipts off) the phone lights up and Clarke finally decided swipes the green button with a resigned groan. “What?”

Her mother’s voice starts blaring down the line before Clarke gets a chance to say anything else, Clarke tunes it out as she nods to the stern looking black woman who recognises her, returns her nod and starts making her order. Clarke reluctantly returns her attention to the frantic babbling coming down then line, the words _“Moved up to Two O’Clock”_ not even giving her a pause, Clarke is so far beyond caring, so beyond having a singular fuck to give. Instead she turns her attention to the readymade sandwiches, logically deciding that if she had to get to the hospital early, she should probably pick something up along the way.

Grunting the odd noise to give at least some semblance of listening to her mother’s frantic “strategy «of  how to deal with what will essentially be and inquisition, Clarke struggles to  hold the phone and sandwich in one hand and then fish her cash out with the other. The task is not made easier when a cup is pressed into her hand as she wordlessly accepts in from Indra with a grateful nod, before tucking her sandwich under her chin because- where else was she going to put it? With a final mouthed word of thanks to Indra Clarke grunts another noncommittal noise into the phone before turning around, and walking hard, face first into a stranger; completely spilling her _and_ Clarke’s coffee, all over them.

Clarke lets out a small “ _oof”_ at the impact, her things fall from her hands and when she looks up, jaw open in slack-mouthed shock she gets lost momentarily in wide and _livid_ forest green eyes.

Her thoughts cease for a moment, before her eyes drop from those irate jade pools to take in a set of impossibly full lips, currently pulled down at the sides by a forceful frown.  Clarke’s eyes are then dragged slowly down over the slight swell of a breast, down further again to take in the large and rapidly spreading dark stain spreading over the girls light grey shirt. Blue eyes stretch wider as she glances down at her own black shirt to find that she has managed to come out of this encounter completely unscathed, shirt as dry as a bone. Swallowing an anxious lump appears in her throat Clarke slowly pulls the phone from her ear, noticing the muffled buzzing of her mother’s voice, and briefly wonders how the call miraculously managed to stay connected.

Clarke quickly and guiltily cuts the call, noticing the girls displeased raise of an eyebrow as she does so. They stand in an awkward silence for several seconds before the woman, the impossibly gorgeous woman’s jade eyes glance down, and with a flat, unamused voice says “You dropped your sandwich.”

 

Lexa bites back her frustration, trying to keep her temper as the blonde woman before her gormlessly gawps, not even looking once at the sandwich that is now all over the floor along with several crisps, and a takeout cup of coffee. She winces as she feels the coffee rapidly cooling over the expanse of her stomach and glances down to assess the damage, irritation and dismay besetting her as she sees the soft cashmere fabric is now completely ruined.

The blonde seems devoid of any capacity or inclination to speak and Lexa is irritated that the woman has not yet even had the manners to apologise for walking face first into her, ruining her shirt, her day and to her absolute anguish, her paper back. Lexa clenches her jaw in displeasure as she gives an abrupt shake to the book; sending droplets of coffee flying everywhere, and returns her eyes to the blonde, who _finally_ with the shake of the book seems to have started back to life.

Lexa is shooting her a displeased glare when she notices (with alarm) that the blonde has leaned over the counter and grabbed a pile of napkins, with which to Lexa’s absolute horror; she begins to ineffectively mop at the front of her ruined shirt. At first Lexa stiffens in panic and then flushes as clumsy hands blot over abs and chest while the woman, who seems to at last have found her voice mutters over and over again “ I am _so_ sorry!” in a stirringly husky timbre.

Lexa sucks in a breath of air through flared nostrils as she captures the wandering hands and stills them, slowly dragging them away from the damp shirt to place them down by the bemused girls side and resumes mopping the mess herself.

She notices a faint blush appear on the blondes face, and she rolls her eyes as she the woman begins to babble more apologies, but Lexa’s patience is long gone, and she drops the sopping wad of napkins onto a table beside her and fixes the blonde with an unimpressed stare “Yes... Well perhaps you will keep your calling to when you have a hand free to hold the phone next time.”

Clarke laughs nervously as she surveys the mess on the floor, grimacing an apology to Indra behind the counter who promptly sends someone out from behind it to clear up the mess. “Yeah... Again... I’m really sorry about this. I’ll pay to get your shirt dry-cleaned, and I’ll buy you another coffee...” Clarke’s eyes scan over the brunette’s slender frame before dropping with a frown on the dripping book clutched in her hand “And... Ill by you another copy of that book...”

Lexa purses her lips and looks into the anxious earnest blue eyes, _distractingly_ blue before she waits a beat and responds dryly “That will not be necessary.”

With that Lexa grabs her handbag and sopping book and sidesteps Clarke, not sparing her another glance as she moves to the door. Clarke just stares after her, a weird flutter of disappointment in her belly as she watches the brunette nod to Indra and then stride out the door of the coffee shop, and down the street without one look back.

Clarke turns and surveys the carnage she created, muttering an apology to the poor shop girl who is stuck cleaning up her mess and gathers her things. She hovers a moment, thoughts still stuck on blazing green before she manages to get her shit together and look at her watch. With a sigh Clarke resigns herself to the likeliness of a terrible day and thinks “So, the review has been moved up? Well let’s get this over with.”

Clarke makes her way out of the coffee shop into the busy streets of London, and despite all her worries the irritable brunette plays on her mind. She vows to herself that no matter what happens today that she will go back to Indra’s tomorrow morning with the hopes of running into the girl, and buying her a coffee- which this time she will endeavour to keep in the cup.

Soon enough she reaches the steps of the hospital entrance, and looks up at the domineering building before steeling herself and heading in; more than ready to get this shit done and over with, once and for all.


	2. If That’s Not a Meet Cute Then I Don’t Know What Is.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Clarke and Lexa's day develop when they go their own seperate ways? Lexa gets an important call and Clarke faces the board
> 
> Will they meet again? The answer is yes. 
> 
> Backstory, angst and fluff buddies. Enjoy;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I accidently posted the unedited version of this, so I deleted this and this is the final version of this chapter. I had intended for this to had shorted chapters, no more than 7000 words a piece but there is something wrong with me and nearly 14000 words later... here we are. I will endeavour to be better. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome, along with questions or thoughts or suggestions. Comments and Kudos are also the fuel that feeds the beast friends, so be kind :P

 

**If That’s Not a Meet Cute Then I Don’t Know What Is.**

 

 

When Lexa Wood’s turned on her heel and strode out of the shop she was beset with the feeling that this was the beginning of a very bad day. Of course, at 27 years old the young woman should know better than to believe in the superstitions of her childhood, but Lexa she couldn’t shake the irrational belief that lingered, an unfounded reasoning that the woman who has just barged straight into her had somehow jinxed her entire day.

Striding from the café, Lexa struggled to ignore the cold stain on her belly, her mood darkening with every step she took from the coffee shop, cursing the clumsy girl with those blue eyes that for some reason Lexa can’t get of her mind. She is shaken from her grumblings when her phone buzzes in her pocket, Lexa slips it out and her foul mood becomes steadily fouler as she reads the name blinking on the screen; Indra.

There is only one reason Indra would call Lexa this deep into rush hour, and Lexa knows before she even answers that it has something to do with sandy haired teenage boy and a bad attitude that’s getting harder and harder to deal with. Lexa swipes the green button and Indra’s voice slices through the bustle in the background and cuts straight to the chase “Lexa, Kane called...Aden is in trouble... again. Could you go to the school? I can’t get out of here for at least another two hours, one of my girls called in sick.”

Lexa sighs, worry quickly stifling her irritation as she reassures the strained woman on the other end of the phone “Of course Indra, don’t worry... I’ll handle it.”

Indra mutters her harried thanks and Lexa cuts the call and spots a vacant black cab making its way in her direction. Throwing out a hand Lexa hails the cab, shuddering as a particularly strong gust of wind blows the still damp shirt against her skin, a sore reminder that she probably will look as ridiculous as she feels when she once again comes face to face with Aden’s principal to make more empty promises only this time in a dirty shirt.  

 

The drive is a long one and the traffic quite bad, Lexa sits in silence in the back of the musky taxi forming various pleas and arguments in her head that she knows she isn’t even going to use. Forty five minutes later the rusty black cab rolls through the gates of the immense and immaculately kept grounds, up along the gravelled driveway to the stately redbrick building that comprises the main part of the school. Lexa pays the cabbie, and shuffles her bag on her shoulder, feeling increasingly anxious about what the young boy had done to land him in Kane’s office for the third time this month.

 Lexa is trudging up the steps, when a woman in her late forties strides from the building, followed by a large boy Lexa assumes is her son, his face marred two black eyes and a bandaged nose. From Lexa’s years of business with wealthy clients, she can read the woman like a tableau; the immaculately styled hair, crisp tailored Chanel suit, and high heels clicking on the stone steps all indicate the woman is used to getting what she wants when she wants, from the way her son trails after her, it is obvious she has little regard for anyone else. Lexa’s guesses are proved valid when the woman marches down the stairs right in Lexa’s path and stops right just in front of her as if she expects the younger woman to move aside. Lexa raises an eyebrow but doesn’t move, brown eyes flicker to the brunette in irritation, and then that trail over her from head to toe; lingering on battered timberland, the coffee stained top, wild curly hair and the back pack slung over her back. A thin lip curls in a side smirk but Lexa holds her stare and doesn’t give an inch until at last the older woman huffs and pushes past her muttering “What sort of place is this becoming?”

Lexa lets a smirk alight her face for a moment at the woman’s irritation before she remembers why she is here. Anxiety once again claims its seat in her belly as she climbs the steps to the building and makers her way into the building. After a quick word with the receptionist, Lexa makes her way down the corridor to the principal’s office, a path she is all too familiar with as of late.

Two minutes later Lexa stands at the of what she knows to be Principal Kane’s office, luxurious yet not overstated, impressive and somehow very like the man who occupies it. Lexa knocks and the door swings open bringing her face to face with the handsome man himself; Marcus Kane is in his early forties, with longish but coiffed hair, a trimmed beard, and kind brown eyes that rest above a charming smile.

The man extends a hand, and Lexa reaches out to shake the large warm appendage as he says “Ms. Woods, thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Lexa tries to stifle her anxiety and offers him a small, tight smile “Of course, Principal Kane.”

Principal Kane steps back and gestures for her to take a seat in one of the wide leather armchairs that face his desk. Lexa moves to sit, sliding her backpack from her back, and directing her stare to the sandy haired twelve year old slumped defiantly in the armchair furthest to the left.

Principal Kane settles behind his oak desk, sparing the boy a weary gaze before he redirects his attention to the tense looking brunette “Ms. Woods, Mrs Trikru couldn’t make it in this afternoon?”

Lexa leans back, trying to loosen then set of her shoulders as she tries to appear a little more relaxed “No, Principal Kane. Things have been very busy at the shop, so she asked if I could come in her place.”

The man pauses for a second thinking it over; Lexa is not technically Aden’s guardian but she is as good as, and he had personally dealt with both of them since the beginning of the year. After a second he decides to throw protocol to the wind and fixes the young woman with a serious expression “Well, really I should be discussing a matter of this gravity with Aden’s guardian, but I am aware that things... are rather more complicated so I will make an exception. ”

Lexa tenses her heart rate hitching at the ominous words “of this gravity” and then pumping into overdrive as she waits for him to elaborate. Principal Kane is a fair and tolerant man, understanding and respectful of Aden’s background Lexa knows that the man himself played a large part in actually getting Aden into the prestigious school in the first place.  The fact the man looks so tired and uncomfortable sets alarm bells ringing in Lexa’s head. Lexa turns her head to look at the boy beside her, noting that he has sunk down even the armchair, even cast downward fixed on the toe he scuffs on the carpet. Lexa’s green eyes follow the movement of the black patent leather shoe over the lush carpet, until she is jerked from her distraction by Principal Kane’s resigned explanation of why she has been called to the school in the first place; “Ms Woods, I am afraid that Aden has been suspended for a week.”

Lexa’s eyes widen in shock “Suspended?! What did he do?”

Principal Kane eyes the boy as he speaks; his brown eyes kind yet concerned “I am afraid that this time it is rather more serious than the regular behavioural issues and scuffles... Aden has been fighting, and has injured the other boy quite badly.” Lexa looks sharply towards Aden, but he doesn’t even glance up, but sits mumbling something under his breath.  Lexa tries to dull the panic as her mind works furiously; a suspension would go on Aden’s permanent record, a document already too heavily littered with Aden indiscretions. Polis Academy was part of a long and desperate search for a school that would agree to enrol Aden following his last expulsion. The Academy didn’t come cheap, but had an excellent reputation and it was one of the only schools in the entirety of London that seemed (with some reticence) willing to take the boy on. Lexa sits forward in her chair, locking onto sympathetic brown eyes in front of her “Mr Kane... I understand that fighting is unacceptable and I promise we will work on it, but is a _suspension_ really necessary?

Principal Kane lifts a wry eyebrow before letting his gaze flicker the boy who seems to have shrunken under the weight of tension in the room. Kane observes him unawares, noting how his defiant gaze has morphed to a worried one as he glances over at his distressed foster sister. It breaks the man’s heart to do this, but he has given the boy as much leeway as he can, and the other boys parents are demanding action be taken “I am afraid so Miss Woods. I must admit, a week’s suspension is actually rather lenient. One would actually consider expulsion if not for the fact the other boy is said to have started the altercation... you see, Aden broke the other boy’s nose.”

Lexa sits in the chair a moment, her face set and tense and she battles to absorb the information. Almost a minute slips by until the brunette turns abruptly to the sandy haired boy beside her, horror etched on every inch of her beautiful face as she barely whispers “Aden?!” The boy twitches at the soft call of his name but doesn’t look up. Instead he shrugs and turns away while young woman grips the armrests of her chair so hard her knuckles look as if they will pop through skin.

  
Mr Kane looks from one to the other, heart heavy. For all of Aden’s troubles Markus Kane knows that Aden is a sweet child with an astonishingly brilliant mind. Taking the boy in to the Academy had been a gamble, but Kane had had a good feeling about him despite his record and initially Polis seemed to be a good fit for the boy. Two weeks in however, his behaviour had begun to change; there was the odd physical scuffle though of no great severity, he had started skipping classes and meals, and was found out of his dorms after hours. He became sullen and unresponsive and it was a complete turnaround from the charming boy he had got to know “Ms Woods, I understand things for Aden have been difficult. I understand that the family dynamic is somewhat complicated, and I am sympathetic, I am... But really this is getting out of hand. Aden is an excellent student and top of all his classes but... this is a certain kind of school and his academic performance aside, we cannot permit this kind of behaviour in this establishment. This will be his last warning before he is expelled from Polis Academy. I am sorry.”

 

XXX

 

 

Simultaneously, back near Kings College a blasé Clarke Griffin is slowly trudging towards the hospital. A walk that should take no more than 10 minutes takes at least twenty, and with every step the woman is less inclined to take another.

It is not so much the review, or the suspension that weighs the woman down but rather the prospect of having to see her mother. Clarke has solidly avoided the woman’s calls and visits for over a month, and is not at all inclined to break what she considered to be a successful streak in evasion.

In saying that, Clarke knows she can’t avoid her forever and that the entire situation needs a resolution one way or another. That doesn’t mean she has to like it though, and she likes it even less when as soon as she steps through the hospitals automatic door she is beset upon by the very woman herself.  

Clarke blinks rapidly as a brown haired and flawlessly dressed figure bustles into her space speaking at a machine gun’s pace while Clarke struggles to breathe through her attentions; fingers are raked through blonde hair, effectively tugging out half of it, then busy hands start patting her down and brushing her off until the younger woman can no longer bear it and backs away into empty space, inhaling grateful breaths of much needed air.

The beautiful yet on edge looking woman is the esteemed Abigail Griffin; award winning, renowned surgeon in her field and mother to only child Clarke Eliza Griffin. The doctor has singlehandedly revitalised the field of Cardiothoracics during the 30 years she has worked at Arkadia hospital, she ranks sky high within hospital hierarchy and has her very own seat on the board that her daughter is due to appear before in less than thirty minutes.

The older woman’s fingers twitch but she manages to restrain herself, instead letting her eyes rove over her daughter in her entirety; her gaze turning cold and sceptical as she speaks “Clarke, _please_ tell me you have a suit or something in your locker. Please tell me that you are going to change into it; put up your hair and put on some make-up, for the love of god.”

  
Clarke rolls her eyes before she glances down over her outfit; simple black shirt, tight blue jeans, dark pair of brogues and a colourful patterned scarf. Honestly, Clarke knew getting dressed this morning that this was _not_ the look someone who is about to lose their job should wear to a review but she had long since stopped caring about what the stuck up, money grubbing assholes that run this place think. The blonde rolls her eyes and huffs “Mum. I hardly think my outfit will be the board’s most pressing concern of the day.”

Abby’s brown eyes widen as nostrils flare and she reaches out to grab Clarkes arm  as she hisses “You need to take this _seriously!_ ”

Clarke winces at the vice like grip on her wrist before she pulls herself free, her own temper flaring after the relentless month of nagging and her anger fuelled at the injustice that got her suspended in the first place “I _DON’T_ take this seriously. It’s _bullshit,_ all of it!”

Abby glances around in brief panic at Clarke’s raised voice, relief crossing her features when she sees they’re alone, rounding on the younger woman in fury “Would you _lower_ your voice? For god’s sake Clarke, you are being a child! The hospital has been privatised and you need to make your peace with that, whether you like it or not. Look, Dante Wallace and he and your father go back... if you can just manage to keep your mouth shut you stand a chance of getting out of this with your career intact. The career dedicated your entire life to. It’s a game we all have to play Clarke. You cant change the rules, no matter how much you don’t _like_ them. ”

Clarke stiffens but her mother presses on relentless “Now, you need to _drop the attitude_ , swallow whatever pride or “principals” that caused this mess, and suck it up. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me, Clarke. Please.”

Clarke looks at the woman and suddenly feels so _tired_...tired of rallying against a corrupt system she is set to lose against... _tired of fighting_. Maybe her mother is right, maybe she does need to accept the game for what it is... or stop playing it all together. The meeting hasn’t even started yet and the 26 year old woman’s brain is fried.  Her mother stares at her, pleading with her eyes and wringing her hands, and Clarke just doesn’t care anymore. After a minute the young doctor gives her mother a weary nod and silently follows her into the elevator. She doesn’t brush her mother off when she turns Clarke around and pulls her hair up into a fast chignon. She lets her unwind her scarf and Clarke watches her push the blazer from her shoulders, leaving her in a crisp white top and a professional and stiff looking skirt. The younger woman doesn’t struggle as the borrowed blazer is slipped on her shoulders, nor when her mother tugs at its lapels. Clarke lets it all happen, feeling nothing but emptiness and fatigue coupled with the desire for this whole thing to be done already, for it just be over; one way or another.

 

 

XXX

Once outside Kane’s office Lexa blinks back exasperated tears as Aden wordlessly slips past her with hands shoved his hand in his pockets, hair askew and his bag slung sloppily over one shoulder. The boy determinedly avoids her gaze but she seeks him out “Aden. Aden, look at me.” After a second the  boy reluctantly looks up, swallowing deeply as he notices his sisters jaw slip from side to side a moment before she collects herself enough to speak “Just tell me _why,_ Aden? We worked so hard to get you in here... I thought this is what you wanted? The school has all those amazing engineering programs, all the classes and support you need. Just tell me _why_ you’re being like this.”

Lexa is met with a scowl and silence as the boy tries to slip by her testing her already sorely frayed patience. Reaching out and grabbing his arm, Lexa blocks his exit, ducking down to look him in the eyes as she almost shouts “Aden, Indra and I are _killing_ ourselves to pay the goddamn tuition for this place, and you act like you don’t even care!...do you want to get kicked out? Is that it? You want to go through everything we did to get you in here, all over again? ”

Aden shrugs off her hand and glowers up at the brunette for a moment; a tense second slips by until Lexa sees something chip and then crack away behind those stormy dark blue eyes and then Aden blinks... and a second later he is the sweet kid she has always known, his eyes welling with tears. The boy pauses a moment, his young voice breaking, becoming hoarse and chocked when he responds “No, I don’t want to be kicked out....I _can’t_ do it all again, Lex. I won’t, and you can’t make me. I’d rather quit school all together.”

For a boy so intelligent he sounds like a petulant child as he lifts his chin, biting on a lower trembling lip while dark blue eyes glaze over. Lexa’s heart would break if she wasn’t so fucking frustrated... frustrated and _scared_ , because Aden is on his last chance, and he might not get another in another school. Even if it’s hard for him to hear Lexa knows that she needs to make him understand that this is the end of the line. “Aden, it doesn’t work like that. You legally have to attend school until 16. You’re 12, and have moved schools 8 freaking times Aden. You got expelled from the last two and _will_ be kicked out from this one if you’re not careful. Do you _remember_ how many schools we met with? Do you remember how many turned us away? Do you remember how fucking hard it was to get you in here? It’s here or a public school that will agree to take you, Aden. You’re out of options”

 

A tear breaks free and tracks down a pale cheek as he responds; his sobs barely contained behind his bitter words “I _know_! Don’t you think I know? I’m not stupid Lexa... I just... it’s not fair. I don’t mean to make things so hard... I know that you and Indra are always worried about money, because of me, because of this place and how much it costs but I’ve been trying, I really have. I _liked_ it here before, I thought it was gonna stick... I thought that I’d make friends... and it was cool for a couple of weeks..”

Aden breaks off, crying freely now and Lexa lays a steadying hand on his shoulder as she lets the boy let it out, listening intently to his words. “But... But now the other kids... they’ve started doing what they always do, even here. They pick on me, follow me around, and call me names. They call me Orphan, weirdo, loser... they think I’m a _freak_ because I’m twelve but taking class with the year 11’s. They hate everything about me... they hate that I’m smart, that I’m not rich like them, and that I’m different... They make fun of me constantly Lexa and I’m tired of it.  I thought this place would be different it never stops... no matter where I go.”

Lexa looks down at her little brother and her heart breaks; again. This is not the first time Aden had this kind of trouble... the kid is gifted, wildly intelligent and several grades ahead of his peers. The poor boy had been picked on and bullied constantly in public school. He had been expelled more than once for fighting because no matter what or how kids he is up against ... Aden never backs down from a fight. Lexa and Indra had scowered London schools struggling to find a place he might get along better in and came up with Polis Academy, one of the best and most highly sought after schools in London. It also happened to be one of the most expensive.

 

Getting Aden accepted into the school was a war in itself, but his academic record and sheer genius made him an asset to the school and no doubt his difficult background would look good upon the schools sorely lacking diversity quota. After several meetings, rigorous testing, and an exorbitant cheque Aden’s expulsions were over looked and he was admitted to the school which by all rights; should have been the best place for him

Polis Academy boasted excellent facilities and was a school both highly reputed for academics and sports. This is what had drawn Lexa to the place for Aden to begin with, because along with some excellent extracurricular programs the boy adored sports and thrived in physical activities of any kind. The school boasted the countries best rowing and fencing team, its own personal tennis and basketball courts, rugby and football pitches and an Olympic swimming pool. Academic programs were wide and varied with specific modules to target more gifted students such as engineering and chemistry electives. The school itself cost a little more than 80,000 pounds a year, and even with what was left of Intra’s retirement and Lexa’s savings it was a stretch for both of them. They both had sat down and hashed it out, finally reasoning that if Aden would be happy here, if he would be able to come out of his shell, grow then it would be worth every penny. With the cafés opening Indra’s funds were strapped so Lexa offered to pay the first years tuition and Indra insists she will remortgage the house for the second.

However, this soon into term with a suspension under his belt it was looking wildly likely that Aden wouldn’t be in Polis beyond the second semester. The whole situation is completely unfair... Aden has as much a right to feel safe, to feel happy as any other child Lexa is sick of other children making his life miserable and once again marvels at how children can be so cruel, so afraid of what’s different. That being said there was nothing to be done to protect Aden in this, and Polis was said to have vigorous policies on bullying. Lexa looks down at her little brother, the strong set shoulders and knows that he has not told anyone what’s really going on, that he would rather take the blame then to admit he needs help.

“Aden, they shouldn’t be treating you like this, and you shouldn’t be suspended for standing up for yourself! I need to have a word with Mr. Kane, this school is supposed to have very strict protocols about bullying, but they have to know about it to protect you from it Aden.... You have as much a right to be here as any of the other kids.”

Aden’s head snaps up and he looks fierce, pushing her away as he almost shouts “Look, just let it be! You’ll just make more trouble for me and besides, it won’t change anything anyways...I don’t belong here..... I don’t belong anywhere.”

Tears burn Lexa’s eyes the moment he says the words, after everything they have been through, this more than anything is like a dagger to her heart. She grabs his flailing arms as he tries to shrug her off, and pulls him into a desperate hug. He fights it for a moment, shouting and wriggling but Lexa holds on tighter until finally he lets go and boy’s shoulders begin to shake with silent sobs. Lexa holds him, breathing in his familiar soapy smell and blinking back stinging tears as she presses a kiss the top of his head, her voice fervent and powerful as she says “That’s _not_ true Aden. You belong with me.”

 

XXX

 

Clarke sits in an uncomfortable chair in front of the board of directors of Arkadia hospital. Seated at the long mahogany table is her mother; Head of Cardiothoracics, seated on the far right. On the far left is the Chief of Surgery and family friend, Thelonious Haha.  To his right is the hospitals Head of Accounting Charles Pike, a hot headed and ill tempered man who seems extract joy from squeezing every penny he can from the patients, and nothing else. Directly in front of her is the Head and majority shareholder of Arkadia hospital; Dante Wallace. After introductions are made Clarke settles back in her seat and studies the man, his name infamous in London and not necessarily with positive connotations. The man stares right back at the blonde, his pale eyes glinting with delight as they track over her. Clarke recognises that look and though he is an amiable, rather harmless looking man his stare is nothing less than predatory. The longer Clarke looks at the man the more she starts to think there is something “off” about him.... a coldness in his eyes that puts the woman on edge.

There is an unofficial standoff as the man literally _twiddles_ his thumbs and lets a smug little smile linger on the corner of thin lips. Never one to back down, the blonde meets his stare with an indifferent scowl of her own until several minutes slip by and the smirk eventually slides from his paunchy face.

Wallace leans back in his chair, all traces of a smile gone and voice cold as he says “Let’s get to business then. You Dr Griffin have been suspended from practice during the last month, and this meeting today is to establish whether we wish to take legal action, and whether it is the action of the hospital to terminate your employment in its entirety. Do you understand Dr. Griffin?

Clarke bites back the cheeky retort that dances on her tongue and responds blandly “Yes, Sir.”

Dante Wallace regards the unnervingly at ease woman before him and pauses as he begins to leaf through the papers in the file in front of him, an irritated curl to his lip beginning to show.

“Very well... now I have read then incident report. You have admitted to performing surgery and then falsifying then paper work of a woman who did not have then health insurance to cover the treatments provided, costing the hospital, _my hospital_ a substantial amount of money. I see here that not only did you use my hospitals resources to save a woman that could not afford the treatment, but on top of that you admitted her under a false name for _three_ days?!?”

Pike glowers at her from across the table, her mother and Jaha shift, while Wallace fixes her with and intense stare that she returns with ease. Once again Clarke finds herself wondering why she even bothered to come to this stupid meeting because if they are expecting remorse or an apology they would have another thing coming. Clarke pauses, satisfaction mounting as she notes the frustration so clearly evident on Wallace and Pike faces. It takes all Clarke has not to let the smirk she is holding in bleed out across her face, she bites the inside of her lip and responds “Yes, Sir.”

Dante Wallace narrows his eyes and drinks in the woman before him; she is quite a beauty with light blonde hair, a low husky voice and a body of soft curve just made to be punished. The young doctor’s attitude however leaves a lot to be desired, Wallace can see defiance... and even mockery in those bright blue eyes. It piques him, stirs him... irritates him, and he decides to knock the woman down a peg or two. “Well... Dr. Griffin, you have more or less thrown your career down the drain, along with leaving yourself liable to suit.  Perhaps you could at least do us the courtesy of telling us what the hell you were thinking?”

The woman actually has the gall to pause, to reflect on whether his question even _dignifies a response._ He grips his knee hard under the table as he waits for her to answer him, and when she does her response is curt and sharp. “Honestly, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than saving a life. That woman was _dying_ , she was about to go into cardiac arrest and without treatment and surgery she would have died in minutes... she didn’t have insurance because she was homeless. What was I supposed to do? Let her die just because she hasn’t got the money to pay for something no one should have to pay for?”

Wallace sucks his teeth a moment and everyone at the table sits in tense silence. Eventually he leans forward his voice dangerously low as he spoke “There are NHS services all over this city. You should have sent her elsewhere...”

The blonde actually dares to scoff before cutting across him sharply “With all due respect _Sir_ , sending her away would have been as good as killing her myself. She wouldn’t have made it to another hospital, never mind have been able to survive the wait to see a doctor. I could have saved her, so I did. I made a choice and I’ll accept the consequences, but I stand by my decision.”

Wallace absorbs her words, marvelling at the woman’s composure. He has expected her to plead, to beg to keep her job and as much as he would have enjoyed that he thinks he likes this better. “You really should be fired.”

Seconds slip by and the statement hangs in the air, Clarke waits and a sense of calm washes over her as Wallace searches her for a reaction. When it becomes apparent he won’t get one, he sighs and continues his voice gruff with irritation.

“That being said....your father and I went long way back, and your mother is a respected member of the board. According to staff and records, you are a very talented and dedicated physician...therefore I am willing to overlook this, this one time. But know that if you ever try to pull anything like this again, you’re career will be over and I _will_ take you for everything you’re worth.”

Clarke blinks, shocked into silence. So she isn’t fired... that is a surprise. Clarke’s sense of calm has disappeared into a stomach lurching disappointment, so strong she feels sick as Dante Wallace continues.

 “This is an exceptional second chance Dr. Griffin, and you should consider yourself lucky. Of course, you cannot walk away from this without any punishment; starting from tonight you will begin a 6 week stint on the night shift, and you will be on _permanent probation..._ one strike and you’re out _. Do you understand me?”_

Clarke doesn’t respond, but struggles with a suffocating feeling in her chest and the irrational desire to laugh, to toss a glass of water in the wretched man’s face and tell him to shove his job and his hospital up his arse. Her fingers twitch, and she almost leans forward for the glass when her mother speaks her voice low and insistent in the silence, pleading “ _Clarke._ ”

Blue eye lock on the brown that just beg to shut her mouth and say thank you, to “accept the way the game is played”. Despite everything, Clarke can’t refuse her own mother when she is looking at her like she doesn’t even recognise her.  It’s maddening, but effective, and Clarke bites back her temper, meets Wallace’s smug look with a defiant raise of her chin and a flatly “Yes Sir, I understand.”

 

XXX

 

That evening when Lexa brings Aden home to Indra he shoulders through the door and walks straight to his room before Indra slips out of the kitchen to greet her, leads Lexa in and closes the door.  Indra stands tensely as Lexa walks over and rubs a dark arm for a moment, meeting the other woman’s gaze with a worried one of her own.

Indra throws a glance to the door and then gives Lexa the nod. Assured of their privacy Lexa begins a brief, hushed summary of Kane’s office and Lexa’s following talk with Aden. Indra listens is silence, her black eyes widening in understanding before glossing over with grief at the boy’s words. “Indra, I need to tell Kane Aden’s is bullied... but he might not forgive me for it.”

Indra puts a hand on her arm, and her low accented voice is fervent “No matter what happens Lexa, I am here for both of you. The boy will be angry... but we cannot let this go on... we need to show him a better way.” Lexa nods and swallows and Indra lifts her chin and calls loudly to Aden to join them in the kitchen. A minute later the boy shuffles into the room, obviously expecting a through scolding as stands before them, head hanging and glowers forlornly at his feet. They stand in silence for a moment until Indra stands and takes the surprised boy in her arms  and squeezes him tight before pulling back to look him in the eye promising him they will work things out. Aden is slack jawed with shock at his foster mother’s response; not even complaining when Indra releases him with a ruffle of his hair and a laugh at his expression.  Lexa watches the exchange with a soft smile, indescribably grateful for the woman before her. After the day the boy has had, Lexa is glad to know she is leaving him with someone he is attached to. Indra is a hard woman to read, intimidating stern, but fair and very loving in her own way... she was a powerhouse of a person who Lexa had adored for years and Aden had settled in well with her.

As much as Lexa would love to stay and spend some more time with her family, she has a job later tonight and is already running far later than she should be. Aden walks her to the door and sees her off with a kiss to the cheek, promising he will own her ass in Call of Duty this weekend. Lexa and says “You wish Squirt” and laughs and ruffles his hair, before turning and setting off into the cold, a melancholy feeling settling in her chest as she worries what will happen once she tells the school what’s really going on with the kid.

Blood or not, Aden and Indra were the only people she considered family since she had moved from Ireland. Lexa was born and raised in Galway, Ireland until her mother moved them to London following her grandmother’s death. When the girl’s mother died of a heroin overdose when she was 11 she was taken into temporary custody while social services tried to locate any extended kin. Of course, they didn’t find any; Lexa had no aunts, no uncles, and no father. Without a guardian Lexa was absorbed and lost into the machine that was the foster care, bounced from group home to group home her entire adolescence.

As a child Lexa always stuck out from the crowd, and not in a good way; if it wasn’t her accent, the unbudgeable “Paddies” accent that made her so unbearably foreign to the other children, then it was the muttered curses in Irish or her refusal to interact with any of the other children. She got picked on a lot; for her attitude, her accent, her language, for the large pair of glasses that were too big for her face, but it never bothered her much.

Even though barely 11 years old Lexa had learned long ago that stupidity was not a curable ailment, and it would be a waste of her time to spend time being concerned with the afflicted. It was this, more than anything that made her so dislikeable; she was a child that didn’t care about anyone, or anything, and it made her untouchable. The less she cared, the more of a target she became as the other children began to make it their mission to get her to crack, one way or another.

 

Things had been escalating steadily during Lexa’s first 6 months in care, until they reached breaking point. It was an average day, school had  finished the young girl was minding her own business, holed up in a corner and writing in a thick battered notebook that was by far her most valued possession. She was quiet and happy, absorbed in what she was doing when one of the older kids; a boy about fourteen or so stalked over and snatched the notebook from her hands. Normally Lexa would raise an eyebrow and walk away but this time was different; especially when the boy started leafing roughly through the pages, snickering as a small group of kids gathered to watch the altercation. After asking him for it calmly to return it to be laughed at in the face, Lexa’s composure started to slip, especially when the boy threatened to tear every page out one by one, not missing that for once the younger girl looked _scared_.

Green eyes went wide in panic as the boy seized a page and began to tear slowly, and Lexa lost it. Nothing mattered; not that the boy that was twice her size and three times as strong, not the punishment that would follow for fighting, not that she would probably be very badly hurt in the process; nothing mattered except getting her book back in one piece. The scrawny child glowered up at the boy and watched the page flutter to the ground. She stared at the page a moment before launching herself at the boy to bite, kick and scratch everything in reach.  

The boy was caught by surprise and Lexa got in a good few punches before he managed to shake her off and toss her hard to the ground. He laughed as she silently got back up, eyes dark, and flew at him again...and again. The boy started to hit harder, to through her off rougher but Lexa just pushed herself back up and spat the blood from her mouth and came back for more. After doubling over and retching from a hard punch to the stomach, the boy watched incredulously as the child staggered unsteadily towards him, swaying on her fee and her small bloody fists raised.  The boy still held the book, but he was growing anxious and honestly disturbed that _she just kept coming_ with that determined, haunted look her eye. Knowing she wouldn’t quit until she got it back, the boy coughed uncertainly, and  tossed the book at her feet, giving her a last shove for good measure as he jeered as he left “Take it, freak.”

 

When the boy had gone, Lexa gathered up the book and its torn page and staggered into the bathroom locking the rickety door behind her. It was just a mass of tattered pages, but it was all she had left of home, of Ireland and of her Grandmother. Lexa’s grandmother had been her hero, and was also the one who had gotten Lexa into the habit of writing stories in the first place, a habit that would stick with her whole life.

It was a practice that had started when Lexa finally got old enough to realise her mother was not always telling the truth when she promised Lexa she would be back for her late that day. Often Lexa would be dropped off at her Grandmothers for days and sometimes weeks at a time and the older Lexa got, the more convinced she became each time would be the last she would see her mother. As much as Lexa idolised her mother, she knew she was sick and often worried about what could happen to her if no one was there to take care of her. The older she got, the more distressed and harder to console she became and finally when 7 her mother dropped her off and the young girl worked herself into such a state that she made herself sick.

The old woman watched the child wracking with sobs, feeling utterly helpless until she was struck with an idea. Shuffling to her room and digging through her drawers yielded her prize which she clutched between arthritic fingers. The elderly woman then slowly descended the stairs and unsteadily lowered herself to sit on the bottom steps, a few feet away from the child balled up at the front door. After a minute or two of gentle coaxing the child crawled into her lap and Lexa can still remember her Nanas gentle blue-grey eyes and her soft lined skin stretched into a watery smile as she pushed the notebook into the little girl’s hands. The notebook itself was an enormous, heavy thing; large and very thick, bound in  an aged leather cover and absolutely not intended for a child. Lexa clutched it bemusedly as her grandmother brushed the tears from her cheeks, idly twiddled a braid in her hair, and instructed Lexa to write a happy ending to whatever was making her sad.

 The child did with utter concentration; little tongue clutched tight between full lips, Lexa painstakingly printed every letter of her story, and that night her grandmother read it after tucking her into bed and let tears fall fast and free down her cheeks. Grey eyes met green, and a wrinkled hand clutched the tiny one tight as the old woman leaned in and told Lexa that whenever she was sad, scared, angry happy, or even lonely, she was to write a story that made her happy, and no matter what...Lexa would be alright.

Lexa had taken it to heart and what started as a way to cope with her mother’s absences developed into a way to escape from the world completely. When the child’s grandmother died shortly after her 9th birthday Lexa was utterly heartbroken and her mother more out of control than ever. When she was 11 and alone in the church after her mother’s funeral, Lexa held a blunt pencil and the battered book in hand, its pages filled with her most recent addition. Everyone has left her, but her notebook had stayed with her through thick and thin, and her stories, happy endings and safe spaces lived between its pages.

 

 

XXX

 

 

A little under an hour later Lexa reaches her apartment door, cheeks chilled from the brief walk from the tube station to her door, and her mind rattling from unpleasant memories. The last thing she wants to do tonight is work, but in all honesty she could use the money; her mortgage payment us due soon and with Aden’s tuition fees having been paid at the start of September she finds her funds running lower than she is comfortable with. As Lexa slips into the warmth of her apartment and reluctantly heads straight towards the bathroom. She lets the water run until it is steaming and tugs off The soiled sweater and throws it  in bin with a sigh; there was no way that stain was coming out.

Lexa bathes quickly and steps for from the shower, padding into her bedroom and sits nude at her dressing table. With a yawn, she pulls out her makeup bag and applies a light layer of foundation followed by a hint of blush across sharp cheekbones. Her eye makeup is a clean and simple cat eye, and Lexa meticulously drags each point up with stark precision making her bright green eyes stand out starkly against the dark black. Then she sweeps her long hair up into a tight bun, pinning her flyaways and cementing it with spray before standing and reaching for her laptop.

She yawns again as she pulls up the email her client had sent her the night before, rereading her requests and preferences, and bites back a sigh. She has been asked to wear lingerie for the evening so she quickly she reaches in and pulls out a bronze lace bralette and the matching pair of “cheekie” underwear; she slips them on, and next are the garters and the nude stockings that are pulled up toned legs and clipped into place.  Finally dressed Lexa examines herself a moment in her full length mirror  before glancing at her watch and blowing out her cheeks in annoyance. Lexa slips on a pair of shiny burgundy heels from the wardrobe after a second of rifling in her makeup comes up with a matching matte lipstick, applying it with one hand while ordering an uber with the other. 

Car ordered, Lexa shrugs her trench coat on, closing her eyes and summoning the Commander to her for the evening. Lexa stands a little straighter and schools her face into her indifferent expression; she practices saying random words letting her Irish accent fade into a standard British one; a security measure more so than anything else. The Commander is her persona, her alter ego, someone Lexa considers a separate entity to herself; she is an act, a parody... a tool.

For some reason, Lexa finds she is having trouble clearing her mind and struggles to get into character. She chalks it up to the trouble with Aden, or perhaps long ignored memories bad that she dredged up on the way home and tries harder. Frustrated, she squeezes her eyes tighter and tries to force herself behind The Commanders wall but is jolted out of her efforts a minute later when her phone buzzes and alights with the number from her Uber. Lexa is out of time and not ready for the night ahead... with a shaky breath she tells herself tells her to get it together and strides through the door, case in hand and a mounting fear seated deep in her belly.

XXX

Twenty five minutes later Lexa is pulling up to a grand house in Hyde Park. She takes a moment to gather herself before stepping from the car, with great difficulty forcing The Commander into place and then steps from the vehicle feigning a confidence she does not feel. Lexa knocks on the door and a harried looking woman opens at once and ushers her in; she is dressed in a silk robe, her silver hair is immaculately coiffed, and though not typically a stunning woman she exudes an aura that renders her arresting. The woman carries a little extra weight but by no means is large and despite her attempts to appear calm, she is evidently nervous. They hover awkwardly in the hall for a moment, the other woman is avoiding looking at her and The Commander can tell this first time client will need some easing into things. With a breath of impatience she raises a brow and speaks in a low clear voice “First time client?”

The woman shuffles a moment but replies, finally daring to look at the woman whose company she bought for the next hour “Yes.”

The Commander nods coolly and begins to undo the buttons of her trench coat one by one, revealing more of the tanned skin underneath as she speaks “Judge Frieling, you were very clear about the services you require in your email but know at any time if you feel uncomfortable that we can stop immediately. You have agreed to my terms and conditions along with the payment of two thousand pounds, is this still the case?”

The woman nods wordlessly, eyes following The Commanders hands that slide off the trench coat revealing a subtle bust, toned abs and endless legs. Swallowing the urge to roll her eyes at the woman’s evident gawping; she instead holds her coat up to obscuring the view of lace clad breasts. Eyes snap up and the woman turns a mottled red. The Commander raises an eyebrow at the woman’s blush and speaks “You may refer to me as Commander or Madame and nothing else. Well then...tidy this and let’s get on with it shall we?”

The other woman takes the coat with a nervous gulp and leads The Commander forward with tool box in hand, towards the bedroom.

.

XXX

 

 

Clarke slugs another sup of her coffee, its three AM and she sits in the empty on call room, trying to power through the teetering stack of charts that had been shoved onto her desk. The young doctor is exhausted, staring blearily at the lines of writing that begin to blur, exhausted lids start to slowly close, and then open. A blonde head nods before it is jerked upright by the sudden, sharp insistent buzzing coming from her phone on the desk. Clarke snatches it up, already knowing who the caller is, swinging back in her chair as she asks “Hey, Ray Ray what’s up?”

It is not unusual for Raven to call so late, she had weird sleeping habits along with the occasional bout of insomnia. Clarke had texted her that day to tell her she would be on nights, and the dark haired girl had taken it upon herself to break up the monotony.

Raven chuckles down then line, “Clarksickle, how’d the review go? You are obviously still employed... ergo the night shift, but what was it like?

Clarke sighs, and leans back in the chair “It was bleak. Kept my job... barely. One more strike and I’m out... though I’m starting to wonder if that would really be such a bad thing... when I thought I got the sack, I was actually _relieved_... and then disappointed when I found out I wasn’t... I mean that’s fucked up, right?  What about you? How was school?”

Raven absorbs Clarkes words a moment before replying, her playful tone gone as she responds “Doesn’t sound great Clarke, but don’t make any rash decisions... think it over a little more. You’re a knee jerk reaction kinda person, but right now this is not the time... piss this guy off and it could be the end of your entire career. And school sucked actually... I had to break up a fight between two of my students, one of whom I have a particular soft spot for.... he is a freaking genius, and on top of that a total sweet heart. The thing is, I was too late and this kid had already caved in the nose of the other kid, which of course got the other boy suspended. But you know, I wonder what really happened. It’s not like this kid to be violent... he is a total sweet heart but when I tried to talk to him, he just clammed up.... you know?”

Clarke couldn’t help but feel a little flush of fondness for Raven, she was brash loud and obnoxious, but underneath she was as soft as butter “Sounds rough Ray... do you think he is being bullied?”

Raven exhales a heavy sigh down the line. “I wouldn’t be surprised... the kids goes to class with the year 11’s, I haven’t really seen him hanging out with other kits and he is the type of kid that just  screams; “ _different_.” Even if that was the case it’s hard to prove when he is the one breaking noses, and especially when he refuses to talk about it. The kid that got beat... he is a little asshole and I’d bet my life he started the whole thing off, but of course he claimed the other boy attacked him... and the other kid did nothing to refute it.”

Clarke could tell her friend was genuinely upset, and despite how much she loved teaching Raven hated dealing with the stupid bureaucracy that went with it “Why don’t you try talk to Principal Kane, tell him your concerns? Or meet with his parents... see if they can get anything out of the boy?”

“I’ve already talked to Kane... but his hands are tied.  And this kid is a foster kid.... one foster parent and a guardian I think. Hmmm I could get together with them though... see if they know anything?”

Raven sounded better already, she liked a plan, and was not the kind of person that waited around for a problem to solve itself “Yeah, that’s a good place to start. Here’s another idea; you like this kid, and you say he is smart... why don’t you rope him into that project you’ve been working on? You’ll be keeping him out of trouble, and maybe when you’re working together he might open up a bit more?

Raven is silent for a moment before a string of enthusiastic curses stream from her “Griffin!!! You beautiful blonde excuse for a human being!!! That’s a fantastic idea, you were here I would literally kiss you! We gotta get together soon by the way, I miss your face, and you’ve been M.I.A the last four weeks.”

 

Clarke laughs at her friend’s enthusiasm but doesn’t miss the weighted message at the end, she presses down the pang of guilt and rubs her eyes “I’m tied up for the next 6 weeks Ray, but we will work something out soon, I promise.”

Raven huffs at the dismissal but accepts it, “Alright Griff, but don’t do anything hasty when it comes to work, yeah? Just give it a few weeks.”

Clarke spins in the chair, phone pressed to her ear and sighs in response “Ok, Ray. I’ll take it easy. Night, love you.”

“Right back atcha. Call me when you’re free, ok?”

“Ok.”

 

XXX

 

 

Judge Anna Frieling was one of London’s better known judges, Lexa had a lot of high profile clients, and Lexa knew the woman’s type well; high profile career, driven,  respectable, a politician husband and the mandatory child or two... and most of all, a raging closet case.  She had contracted The Commander to bring a recurring fantasy of hers to life as with most aspects of her life had planned the encounter with military detail to the last element. The Judge had send Lexa a detailed description of this fantasy and Lexa knew before she has even reached the end of the email what the woman wanted...the Judge; ultimate control freak wanted to be dominated and controlled and by another woman.

It was all the same in the end no matter with who, or how she worked; The Commander would provide attitude  instructions and the pain factor if necessary, the client themselves would provide their own release while The Commander provided the authoritarian figure they needed to do so. The Madame's rules were simple; she would not touch nor be touched, she would not go naked, and she would not pose nor touch herself. She did however to do more or less anything to themselves within reason, and Lexa considered having to witness is as just part of her job description. Watching her clients debase themselves was simply what Lexa did for a living, if anything it was tedious and a bore, but it paid the bills and it paid them well.

 

The Commander had set about fulfilling the older woman’s fantasy; following the description within the email from start to finish. It had begun easily enough, she had tied the woman blindfolded to the bed and worked her body over with an assortment of tools ranging from feathers to a cane, until the woman was begging for more. When that was done the brunette ordered the judge to sit on the bed and apply her nipple clamps, both of which were attached to a long chain that The Commander herself held in her hand. Judge Frieling’s breathing was already ragged when cold metal dug into the tender peaks, and when The Commander ordered her to touch herself the woman almost wept in gratitude. The Commander observed from where she sat cross legged in a leather arm chair, trying not to yawn as intermittently tugged on the chain eliciting heady moans from the other woman.

When it became clear the woman wouldn’t last much longer, The Commander ordered her to stop her ministrations and finally gave her permission to slide down onto the mounted phallus, eager to get the final part of the night finished. She is tired, more tired than usual and the sooner this is over the better. Seizing a heavy leather paddle in hand, she observes the woman a moment; the perfectly coiffed hair is now frazzled, jiggling flesh spills out of silk, and wet sounds slip from between her legs while her panting is almost animalistic in its rawness. The Commander marvels for a moment at the paradox; at what these powerful, wealthy, respectable people are reduced to being behind closed doors... little more than heaving beasts, the lot of them.

Pulling herself from her reveries, green eyes study the woman and slender fingers tighten around leather. “Do you remember the safe word?”

Judge Frieling doesn’t open her eyes but chokes out the words “Yes, Commander.”

The Madame circles her, choosing her targets and demands “What is it?

The Judge bounces faster, her voice hoarse as she rasps “Courthouse.”

The Commander tests the heavy pad of leather, conscious of its weight and asks “Very well... are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, Commander.”

The dominatrix steps closer “I will strike you 4 times, _hard_...as per your request. After each blow you will ask me for another until we reach four. After the forth, I will grant you permission to release. If at any point it becomes too much; use the safe word, are we clear?”

A whimper. “Yes, Madame.”

“Very well. Let us begin.” The Commander raises the paddle brings it down hard on the woman’s right thigh, the harsh slap resonating throughout the room. The madam waits for the words, eyes on the woman who grinds down hard on the phallus, eyes squeezed shut until she chokes “Another, please.”

With the plea the paddle is raised again and this time is brought down hard on soft buttocks, eliciting a harsh cry from the grey haired woman who moves her hips faster and gasps “Another... please.”

The Commander strikes her across her silk clad breasts this time, and the woman moans as swinging of her hips becomes jerky and uncoordinated. It takes almost a full minute, but eventually she hisses again “Another, please... and harder.”

Inhaling a deep breath The Commander raises the paddle again, and this time brings it down harshly on her belly. With that the woman screams, spasms and jerks, and a gush of fluid spreads across, and drips from the chair.

Perhaps it was the force of the slap, or the guttural moans coming from the woman. Perhaps it was the sight of the flooding liquid, or the events of the day, but in a split second The Commander’s composure breaks, and a horrified Lexa is in her place, fighting back a burning rush of bile that rises in her throat. The judge herself is oblivious to Lexa’s change; she still sits jerking on the chair, eyes closed and breasts heaving. Lexa needs to get out, and she needs to get out now “I will leave you to compose yourself. When you are ready I will be waiting in the sitting room to conclude business.”

Lexa leaves and closes the door with a relieved click, rushing to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face and steady shaking hands. Lexa looks hard in the mirror, and tells herself to get her shit together, that she can’t afford to be seen like this... she can’t afford to _feel_ like this... that she is a professional who has been doing this for 6 years without a hitch. With a harsh glare in the mirror she leaves the bathroom and replaces her things in her case, soon hearing the steady pas of Judge Frieling’s approach. The woman hands her the coat, and a wad of cash and Lexa accepts both without a word before striding to the front door and stepping out into the London’s cold October night.

 

XXX

 

 

The next morning there is a distinct bite in the air, it is just the beginning of October but Lexa can already feel the season steady transition; the leaves are slowly turning to red and gold on the trees and the wind blows harder and a little colder with each passing day. As Lexa shuts her apartment hall door behind her she takes a second to tuck her scarf tight into the neck of her black trench coat. The  wind is strong today and the girl battles against it as she makes her way up the street, her curls billowing loose and wild about her face, obscuring her view before she finally gives in and haphazardly tugs it into it lose bun. Grasping herself tightly by her arms Lexa quickly regrets her choice of a dress as the air nips at her through the thick woolly fabric of her tights, warm but not heavy enough to protect against the blustering gale.

Ignoring the desire to push her glasses higher upon her nose in a bid to retain what little body heat she has, Lexa marches on through the streets of Camden. Minutes later she is lost in her thoughts as the tube rattles noisily; the cramped crush of the morning rush is both familiar and unpleasant as Lexa dwells on her bizarre behaviour last night, struggling to find a reason but it no closer to one as the train comes to its jerk stop. Lexa pushes her way through the masses, trying to avoid breathing the in the heavy mingled smell of strangers and makes her way from the station.

The walk to Indra’s is short, but it’s cold and Lexa is aching to sit down with a warm drink in hand. When she arrives, Lexa’s heavy heart she is delighted to see the Indra bustling behind the counters, slicing through the morning rush with ease and confidence. Indra’s had opened about 8 months ; it had a rocky start, but Indra’s hustle, excellent cooking, and the fact she could make what Lexa considered to be the best coffee in the city eventually paid off. Indra’s was doing well and Lexa was happy for the woman.

Indra had said for years she wanted to open her own coffee shop so when she retired from teaching after an incident with one of her students, its exactly what she did. With her life savings, and a sizable investment from Lexa, they had got the place up and running after almost a year of preparation. Lexa was a mostly silent partner, trusting Indra’s instincts and only offering advice when it was asked for but they worked well together, and Lexa was proud of her.

Pushing her worries aside, Lexa pushes open the door and is immediately overwhelmed with the buttery smell of Indra’s baking which sets mouth watering at the prospect of a scone almost instantly. Green eyes bounce over the café and zone in on a set of just vacated armchairs. Allowing a small smile to lift the corners of her lips, Lexa weaves her way through the crowd and makes a beeline for the space. The old battered armchairs that sit by the window just happen to be Lexa’s favourite place to sit in the café and she gratefully sinks down onto comfortable leather, sighing happily as she pulls her book from her bag. 

Lexa’s copy of “The Book Thief had been through a lot; already second hand when Lexa bought, it its pages were yellow and the cover faded but during Lexa’s ownership it had been read it several times, leading to a cracked spine, dog-eared pages and after yesterdays encounter it was looking shabbier than ever. After several hours on then radiator the book had dried, but the pages remained bulky and swollen, having expanded to twice their thickness. It didn’t bother Lexa too much, she believed a loved book should show marks of wear and most of her books bore the brunt of her affection; the torn covers, cracked spines, and coffee marked pages were no rare occurrence, and this book looked no worse than some of her others.

Lexa didn’t have to queue in the chaos; Indra would be over with a flat white and a rare smile whenever she would have a spare minute, so Lexa settled in and began to read. She loved this little routine, this morning ritual that became a keystone to her days. After last night’s weird break in composure she could use the familiarity, so pushes the negative thoughts from her mind, and looks out into the street alit by the dim morning sun, and thinks to her; today is going to be a good day.

 

XXX

 

Clarke Griffin gratefully towel dries her hair as she steps from the frigid jets; hospital showers are grim things but it’s what the woman needed after an 11 hour night shift and twenty minutes later Clarke steps out of the hospital feeling much more refreshed than she did an hour before. The air is cold, but Clarke doesn’t mind, it wakes her sluggish mind and knows she will be out of the cold soon enough with a warm caramel macchiato in hand, and after nights grind she has had she can hardly wait. The blonde is crossing the street when a familiar figure catches her eye through the coffee shop window, and as she gets closer a smile slowly spreads across her tired face; it’s the surly brunette from yesterday morning, sitting enthralled in her book, her hair tied up in a messy bun and a pair glasses resting on her nose.

Moving past the window to the door, a spontaneous set of butterflies erupts in her stomach Clarkes step falter as she raises her hand to push open the door. It’s been a long time, years even... since Clarke has felt a _pull_ like this and the woman cannot decide whether its good or bad thing that she is feeling it _now_. The doctor knows nothing about the girl...so why is her body reacting to her so violently? Pausing for another second to gather her thoughts, Clarke decides to trust her gut as she pushes the door open and enters the bustling coffee shop.

Clarke slips through the crowd and glances from counter to the vacant chair in front of the brunette for a moment; torn. After a seconds pause Clarke reasons that in introduction is not going to make itself and confidently marches up to the brunette, pulling back the vacant armchair and sinking into it with a relieved sigh of satisfaction. The doctor doesn’t hold back a smile as she observes green eyes snap up from the book to her, clouded with confusion and irritation. There is a flicker of recognition before jade orbs narrow and glare at the young woman mutinously.  Clarke doesn’t let it faze her and sits back and crosses her legs, shooting a grin towards the affronted girl before her.

They both stare at each other a beat before the brunette raises a graceful eyebrow, purses her full lips in displeasure and then tugs up her coffee ruined book in front of her face like a shield. The action itself, along with just how pitiful the book looks elicits a chuckle from Clarke before she even knows it’s there. A second later the book is sharply lowered and green eyes scowl across the small coffee table, holding the blonde’s gaze pointedly for a moment before full lips snark a displeased “Can I help you with something?”

Clarke laughs again, more freely this time and the sound low and raspy within the bustle of the café. Clarke ignores the question and observes the other girl curiously for a moment; eyes drift from the two tendrils of hair that have escaped the bun, falling about her face and ending in a soft curl to the large tortoiseshell glasses that do nothing to dull the intensity of the forest green eyes, and then blue to the bulging book clutched between elegant hands.

Green eyes roll and then are pulled back down to her lap, scanning over print with a furrowed brow. Clarke smiles a little turns to catch Indra’s eye and shoots her a smile, she mouths the words “Coffee please” as she makes a vague gesture between her and the other girl who pretends to be engrossed in her book. Clarke notes Indra’s raised brow, and the glance between the two women but a second later she nods and busies herself behind the coffee machine. Clarke then returns her attention to the other girl, who is not trying and failing to seem like she is legitimately reading. “So... I see the book dried then.”

Green eyes flicker up, and sculpted brows contract as she responds in a flat even tone “It did....after several hours on then radiator.”

 Clarke smiles guiltily “Well... I _did_ offer to buy you a new one.”

Lexa regards her a moment and seems to reflect on whether that statement deserves a response, instead she huffs and looks down at her book, muttering so lightly that Clarke almost missed it “ Yes... well I like this one.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but smiles as she watches the girl who glowers pointedly at her book, lips pressed tightly together. She is just about to open her mouth to speak again when Indra strides over and places a Flat White down in front of the brunette and a Caramel Macchiato in front of Clarke. Clarke hands her a 10 pound note and smiles as she says “Thank you Indra, that’s for the two and please, keep the change.”

Indra pauses for a second as she looks between the two women, raising a pointed brow at Lexa who completely avoids her stare before she shrugs and takes the cash, returning to the till. When she is gone green eyes dance from the book to the steaming cup of coffee, and then flicker back up to stare at the blonde. Clarke raises an eyebrow at the wordless demand for an explanation, and shrugs, “I owed you coffee... so I got you coffee.”

The other girl waits a beat, seemingly weighing up Clarkes words before she tugs the book back up; obscuring her face completely as she states indifferently “I don’t pay for coffee here. You wasted your money.”

Clarke’s eyes narrow and she feels a slight flicker or irritation at the woman’s frankly unpleasant attitude. Of course she would be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to the girl, that she has more than just a friendly interest in her but there something about how _stuck up_ she seems, about her unflappable nature that just begs Clarkes to push her buttons. A smirk dances on the corner of Clarkes lips as she decides to try and throw the stunning ice queen a little off balance, her next question born more so by boisterousness than actual belief that the girl will say yes, and she adopts a cheeky tone as she husks  “I see. Well... if coffee wont gain me your forgiveness... what about dinner?”

 Clarke feels a flutter of satisfaction along as slender fingers tighten on the book’s cover before it slowly comes down and a slack jawed, surprised face comes into view.

Clarke chuckles at the girl’s discomposure and frankly adorable expression but her elation is short-lived and a second later the jaw is clamped shut and the brunette erases all traces of embarrassment, glaring as she mutters suspiciously “You’re not serious? You did _not_ just ask me out.”

Clarke shrugs and takes a sip from her coffee, tossing the girl a cock smirk and trying to ignore how fast her heart has suddenly started beating as she jokes “I did. Come on... yesterday was a total meet cute... it would be a crime if I didn’t.”

The brunette puzzles her words for a moment, clearly lost before she begrudgingly asks “A meet cute...?”

Clarke’s smirk fades into a more natural smile as her eyes soften. She lifts a finger to trace circles on the rim of her cup as she responds “Yeah, you know... a meet cute? It’s when two people meet for the first time in a way that is considered adorable, entertaining, or amusing and predictably fall madly in love... you know live happily ever after and all that jazz.”

Green eyes blinked once, then twice before an incredulous laugh slips out of the brunette to be quickly stifled a second later and Clarkes stomach clenches at the sound. For once the other girl has dropped the scowl and instead there is a ghost of a smile on the corner of her lips. She raises a sceptical brow as she responds dryly “Yesterday you spoiled my shirt, ruined my book, and jinxed my day... and you really think such an introduction requires you ask me on a date?”

Clarke world be lying if she said a part of her didn’t hope the brunette would take her up on it, especially when she is looking at her like _that;_ with that miniscule smirk and quirked brow as the other girl tries to figure her out. Clarke shrugs her shoulders as she responds with a cheeky smirk “Seems like it to me.”

For a second the the brunette is surprised... so this girl is actually seriously asking her on a date? Is this really happening? Lexa sucks in a tight breath and lets it out slowly, actually allowing herself to _look_ at the obnoxious girl who had literally barged her way into her life yesterday morning.  So the blonde is pretty... more than pretty but Lexa had noticed that yesterday.  Bright blue eyes twinkle with amusement as Lexa struggles to process, sensuous lip part to reveal a sultry even smile that has Lexa’s stomach doing back flips.  This will just not do... Lexa forcefully crushes any grain of attraction, grinding it down, any desire to say yes to this charming girl and refuses to acknowledge the pang of remorse when she bites out “I will have to decline.”

The blondes smile lessens a little, but doesn’t fade completely and after a second she lets out a low “Hmm.” before reaching forward for her cup of coffee, bringing it to her lips she continues to study from over the rim of her cup. Lexa wants to squirm; she feels like she is under a microscope and snatches her own cup from the table, looking for some action that might break the awkward tension between them. Of course, Lexa’s life being what it is; she is in mid swallow of a large sup of coffee when the blonde choices it as the exact moment to voice her next question “Why? Not your type?”

And then Lexa begins to choke. The coffee she in the process of swallowing goes down the wrong way and the next second she is coughing, spluttering, wheezing and vaguely mortified as pair of soft hands take the teetering cup from Lexa’s leaving her free to hack unrestrained.

After another minute of spluttering Lexa clears her lungs, but not before she is red-faced, breathless, and utterly mortified as she begrudgingly accepts a napkin from the blonde and wipes her streaming eyes. The blonde watches her with open concern, hovering on the edge of her chair making Lexa irritated than over as she splutters. She will put an end of this once and for all “My *cough* _type_ is none *cough, cough* of your business. And if you must know *cough*, I decline because I find you *cough* _insufferable_.”

The moment the words are out she wishes she could take them back and the brief flash of hurt in the other girls eyes does not go unnoticed. Lexa refuses to acknowledge the pang of regret and sets about ignoring the stuttering heart and sinking stomach that have nothing to do with just having almost asphyxiated on coffee.

Lexa expects the girl to get up and leave, but instead she instead tilts her head and shoots Lexa a curious stare, narrowing blue eyes slightly as she contemplates her response. A moment goes by and Lexa actually considers getting up and leaving but finds herself rooted to the spot. A second later and the blondes expression clears, her smile back on her face as she asks “So... what’s your name?”

Lexa reluctantly meets sparkling blue eyes that are alight with mischief. Lexa chooses to ignore the _relief_ that washes over her, but refuses to give the blonde the satisfaction of letting it show. Instead Lexa feigns irritation as she scowls and mutters “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

The blonde laughs and the sound is rich and throaty and Lexa’s skin prickles with goosebumps when she husks out an amused “Yes... for today.”

Lexa feels an odd swooping in her stomach as the woman leans forward and places her elbows on her knees and her chin on her and, her pretty face expectant as she waits. Lexa considers it a moment and rolls her eyes, breathing out an exasperated huff “My name is Lexa. Happy?”

If Lexa had thought she has seen the woman’s smile before it was nothing to the absolute beaming grin that stretches from cheek to cheek, making it seem as if the already radiant woman was glowing.  Lexa swallows the thought and nervously tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear as a pale hand shoots across the table. Lexa stares at the appendage for a second as if it is some sort of alien creature and looks up to see optimistic blue eyes staring back at her. Lexa cautiously accepts and shakes the proffered hand, trying to suppress the shivers that run through when the other woman rasps lowly “Lexa. I’m Clarke. It’s nice to meet you. ”


	3. Let The Best Woman Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks go by and the women get to know each other.
> 
> A date. Fluff. So much fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guys, this is chapter 3 WITH THE MISSING CHUNK. I've made some slight changes and I think it flows better. Chapter 4 goes up tomorrow. Please do leave comments or Kudos, they are the fuel that keeps me going and I hope ye enjoy guys!

 

**Let The Best Woman Win**

 

For two weeks it follows the same pattern. Lexa slides into her comfortable armchair and opens a book and minutes later Clarke Griffin walks in and nonchalantly slides in to the other armchair opposite the brunette, sliding a flat white in front of her despite Lexa’s protests. 

Lexa tries to ignore the other woman, from being cold to outright rude but nothing seems to dissuade Clarke Griffin from wanting to get to know her. Clarke would ignore Lexa’s glares, sip her caramel macchiato and ask questions which Lexa would completely ignore. Then Clarke would start to ramble, about work, about her friends, about whatever was on her mind. Lexa tried to remain unaffected, to tune her out but her attention was caught by the stirring rasp to Clarke’s voice, by her occasional husky chuckles, by the very woman herself.

 After two weeks of deadpan glares and solid unacknowledgement Lexa finally breaks. She closes her book with a sigh and meets Clarke’s blues eyes head on.

Clarke who is deep into a rambling story about one of her friends, stutters and trails off when she notices the jade green eyes that are now entirely focused on her. Lexa has to hold back her smile as Clarke blinks and leans forward to sip her flat white. When Clarke doesn't continue Lexa as she throws out a nonchalant “So, you were saying? Something about a friend, engines and an inevitable explosion?” 

 Clarke blinks once more as she pauses for a second and tries to remember where she was in her story before she turns to Lexa with a grin“ Yeah, so I told Raven not to do it, but she wouldn't listen…”

 Lexa cuts in, her tone light “Does she ever?” 

 Clarke smiles and laughs throatily “ No.”

XXX

 

 The next month passes quickly and the women begin to see a lot more of each other. It is not a set arrangement but it happens every weekday morning nonetheless. Lexa goes to Indra’s, reads until Clarke bustles into the café and flops herself down in the chair opposite her. 

 Since Lexa’s begrudging willingness to indulge in conversation the two woman had been getting to know each other little by little. Lexa learns that Clarke is a doctor at a nearby hospital and Clarke with great difficult learns that Lexa is involved in investments of some kind. They do small talk, they joke, talk about movies and the small stuff but for some reason it just feels… special.

Lexa can’t help the fact that she likes Clarke, more than she probably should. Lexa likes her stories, she likes the way she jokes, the way she laughs. Lexa likes the way that even after a twelve hour shift and with bags under eyes Clarke still listens with rapt attention to anything Lexa says, she likes the way Clarke prods and teases, she likes the way Clarke’s bright blue eyes crinkle as she smiles and the husky chuckles that come from her when she laughs. 

 Lexa likes the way she laughs a lot…. and that is a problem. Lexa might begrudgingly submit to a friendship with the blonde, but it's very hard to be friends with someone that you find yourself so very attracted to. In Lexa’s defence, Clarke is an unusually beautiful woman and Lexa despite how much she may hate it, is only human. How Clarke manages to always look so flawless is beyond her, even with a messy bun and crumpled scrubs Lexa’s heart skips a beat every time she sees her.

 Sometimes it’s a battle, an absolute war to control where her eyes wander… because Clarke is all soft curve and is exactly Lexa’s type. On top of a fantastic body Clarke has a stunning face and a kicking personality to boot… how could Lexa not be affected? However… it is both entirely inappropriate and unwanted on Lexa’s part… but she can’t deny the attraction. To make it worse, Clarke asked her out all those weeks ago… so there is a possibility there that Lexa in no way wants. 

 Friends; she is happy with being just friends. At least that’s what she tells herself but sometimes when she looks at Clarke, or catches Clarke looking at her… she wonders if it's really true. 

Lexa is not the only one affected. Clarke feels the pull as much as Lexa does. She felt it from the second she upended her coffee all over the brunette and the instant her blue eyes met green. Clarke knows she shouldn't let herself become so interested because the truth is that Clarke isn't even sure Lexa is gay. She did shoot her down that time she asked her out, but in fairness knowing the brunette like she does now she is no way surprised. Lexa doesn't like being caught off guard, not at all. 

 All that being said Clarke is still sure that there is some potential between them; there is something about the way that looks at her that gives her hope. They're small things, but they're still there and Clarke sees them all; the way Lexa’s face lights up into a slow smile as soon as she steps into the café., something about the way intense green eyes lock on her, absorbing every word Clarke’s says with avid concentration. There is something there when Clarke looks away, only to look back and catch Lexa’s green eyes on her, eyes that flutter and flicker away quickly as Lexa’s cheeks turn pink.

 As much as Clarke enjoys their friendship, she can't help the way Lexa makes her feel. Clarke can’t help that she wants more. 

 

XXX

 

It’s Friday morning, and Clarke is coming off a dead night shift, so dead in fact that she had managed to finish up all her paper work and clock off a half an hour early. Clarke is grateful because these night shifts have been taking their toll, effectively killing her social life along with being completely exhausted.

 The only good thing about these last 6 weeks has been seeing Lexa in the morning, laughing and chatting for an hour before Clarke drags herself home and into bed. With any luck Lexa might be there already and so Clarke grabs her stuff and setsoff towards the cafe, eager for caffeine and good company.

 When she walks into the café but is the surprised to find Lexa not in her usual place in her armchair but instead at the counter, laughing at some stern remark that Indra seems to have said. Clarke doesn't miss the easy familiarity between them, the easy way Lexa laughs freely at Indra, a cheeky smirk that Clarke has never seen before painted all over her beautiful face. Clarke watches Indra too, the way forbidding woman’s eyes twinkle as she shoos Lexa away from the counter with a stern chiding that makes Lexa laugh harder. They know each other… well. 

 Clarke watches the exchange until Lexa gives up and turns away, her eyes falling on Clarke when she does. Lexa’s eyes widen with surprise but then light up with a smile as she walks over to Clarke. “Clarke, good morning. You’re early.”

 Clarke smiles back, her eyes dragging involuntarily over Lexa’s outfit as she approaches. Lexa looks gorgeous;wearing black tights, black skirt and an oversized black woollen jumper, her curls falling free and her face bare of almost any make up. Her stomach erupts in a flurry of butter flies before she forces herself to turn away and slip into one of the leather armchairs with a grateful sigh. 

 “Yeah, it was a really quiet night. Was able to clock off early.” 

 Clarke closes her eyes a second in relief before catching Indra’s eye and giving her a nod, receiving one in return. 

 Lexa slips down in front of her, getting comfortable in the thick leather armchair and Clarke observes Lexa as she takes off her glasses to clean them. She looks so concentrated, so focused and Clarke can’t help but but want to know the girl, all of the girl.. once again replaying that unfamiliar cheeky grin on Lexa’s face when she walked in and finds her curiosity piqued. 

 “So, have you always come here every morning?”

 Lexa doesn't look up from her cleaning, her voice distracted as she responds “Since it opened.”

 Clarke pauses a second before asking “Have you known Indra for long?”

 Lexa looks up, slowly sliding her glasses into place as she responds “Yes.” 

 Clarke is used to Lexa’s one word responses but there is something particular about the way Lexa’s lips tense, and her eyes infinitesimally narrow when she responds that tells Clarke she should back off. Clarke blinks, unsure of what to say next. “Right.”

 The silence stretches on and becomes slightly awkward. Clarke drops her eyes and takes a sip of her coffee and Lexa feels a little guilty. She likes Clarke, who has always been so forthcoming with her, so friendly and warm against Lexa’s initial coldness. What could this little admission hurt after all? Would it really be so bad to open up to Clarke even a little? Lexa thinks it over for ten more seconds before she adds begrudgingly. 

 “We are in business together.”

 Clarke’s head snaps up at the statement “What?”

 Lexa smiles at her surprise. “Im Indra’s business partner, we co-own Indra’s though I must say she is really the heart and brains of the whole operation.”

 Clarke’s mouth gapes before her face transforms into one of pretend outrage “No shit! Are you serious? So all this time I really didn't have to buy you coffee?

 Lexa laughs freely at Clarke’s affronted expression; her eyes closing for a second before she is able to respond “Clarke… I did tell you. Multiple times.”

 Clarke scoffs good-naturedly“That you were co owner of Indra’s ?! No, you didn’t.” 

Lexa sighs and rolls her eyes “I told you i don't have to pay for coffee here, but you refused to listen. What was I to do, Clarke?

 Clarke looks at Lexa’s face, lit with amusement and just a tinge of exasperation and Clarke’s stomach flips. Shit… she has got it so so bad. 

 That being said Clarke feels a hint of opportunity and wonders if she now is the time to do something she has wanted to do for weeks.  


Clarke tries to stifle a grin and thrill of apprehension as she adds thoughtfully “So, not only have you been getting you’re coffee bought for you but I've been lining your pockets too!”

 Lexa chuckles and shrugscockily “Something like that.”

 Clarke’s stomach twists again and she narrows her eyes. “You so owe me, Woods.”

 Lexa smiles wide, a subtle crease appearing between her top lip and nose “Do I, Clarke? 

 Is Lexa flirting? It seems like she is flirting… but then again maybe it's just wishful thinking.  Either way, Clarke doesn't think she can keep it in any longer and decided to roll the dice.

“You do. I have been cheated and demand restitution.”

 Lexa pauses and pretends to thing it over, a deep frown creasing her brow as she responds with mock seriousness. 

 “Very well, Clarke. How can I make things right?”

 Clarke swallows her nerves.It’s now or never. 

“Go out with me.”

 

The banter had been flowing and the exchange light and fun but as soon as Clarke’s words are out Lexa’s smile drops as quickly as her eyes widen with shock. 

“What?” Her voice is surprised and Clarke notices how her hands clench the book anxiously on her lap. 

 Clarke tries to keep it light even though her heart is hammering hard, and her hopes are diminishing by the second. 

 “Let me take you out, on a date… of my choosing.”

 Lexa’s face clouds with regret and says “Clarke I…I don’t date.”

 It is a blow, but Clarke isn't willing to let go so easily.Clarke smiles reassuringly at Lexa’s rebuffal and jokes “Lexa… I spent a small fortune on what were essentially free coffees. You at least owe me a date.”

 Clarke throws in a wink for good measure and she can Lexa sway, indecision written all over her face. Hope blooms in her stomach and she tries, just one more time as Lexa struggles.

 “Come on Lexa. Come out with me… one date. No pressure.”

 Lexa’s green eyes don't blink for a long second before she hesitates. Clarke sees her swallow infinitesimal gulp before she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. Thirty more seconds pass before Lexa replies. 

 “Fine Clarke, one date… and after that we’re even. ”

 A grin split's Clarke’s smile wide as Indra totes over a tray with two steaming cups on it. As always Clarke hands Indra a ten pound note, silencing Lexa’s protests with a lift of her hand, smiling wide as she shoots the brunette another wink and jokes;

“Worth it.”

 

XXX

 

 

Rivets of sweat track down Lexa’s face, dripping into and stinging her eyes as her biceps tighten  under her weight and her abdominal muscles contract with the struggle to maintain the balance of  her stand. Lexa’s head is heavy and no doubt almost purple as the blood rushes and pools there  and dizziness sets in. 

 The task of a headstand is made no easier by the incessant stream of stressful thoughts that fly through Lexa’s mind as she silently berates herself for having agreed to a date in the first place, for having allowed Clarke Griffin to get her off balance, for having befriended the girl all, for havingengaged herself in something that will inevitably be a dead end with someone Lexa likes more than she would care to admit.

 The muscles in her arms burn with lactic acid and the tell-tale shake of her limbs lets her know that  her strength is coming to it's end. Lexa inhales deep steady breathe, willing herself to hold out ten  more seconds... each one that ticks by feels like an eternity but she gets through them one by one.

 Lexa slowly drops one leg forward and gracefully straightens herself to a standing position, opening her eyes and glancing to her left where a dark blonde haired woman is deep into a gruelling series of lunges. Lexa steels herself for the other woman’s response and mutters the words to her in one quick harried breath

“I’m going to text her and cancel.”

 The woman’s head jerks towards her in a second, almond eyes narrowed and her face intimidating  as she coldly states “Don’t you dare.”

 Lexa rolls her eyes as she counts away the time of her thirty second break while allowing the blood to filter back through to her body, ignoring her friends  harsh stare as she finishes up her lunges and then stands to slug a long gulp of water from her  water bottle.

When the blonde finishes drinking she turns her full attention to Lexa and even though she is used to her friend’s intensity, Lexa feels small under her scrutiny. She turns away, but the other woman

follows, her voice exasperated as she says “Lexa... just stop for a minute would you?” 

Once again she is ignored as Lexa strides over to the pull up bar and eyes it warily. “Lexa” the other woman presses, but before she can continue her sentence Lexa heaves a resigned huff before she jumps and grabs the bar, letting herself hang for a moment before painstakingly forcing her arms to pull her up until her chin hovers above the bar then allowing herself to drop, before repeating the process again and again.

 Her friend sighs and rolls her eyes and reluctantly starts spotting her, leaning back on the  apparatus, her eyes tracking Lexa’s movements as she drags herself up and down. 

This woman is the intimidating Anya Lachman; half Nepalese and half English and one of Lexa’s oldest friends.

 Anya is tall, slim and wiry, possessing both a beautiful and intimidating face with dark almond  shaped eyes and cheekbones so sharp you could cut yourself on them. Their acquaintanceship spans about 7 years or so... their friendship, almost 6.

 Four years older than Lexa, Anya is thirty one. Though not the easiest person to get to know (the  woman is openly hostile) she is extremely loyal, protective and even funny... it that kind of sarcastic  and terrifying way.

 It was Anya who had inspired Lexa to get into “the biz” all those years ago.They had met when Anya passed by the old sex shop Lexa used to work in to drop in business cards and buy materials. 

When Lexa did decide to give dominatrixing a shot, it was Anya who gave her valuable advice and a helping hand along with the knowledge she needed to be able to do what she did in the way she wanted to do it.

 Anya had helped Lexa set up her website, spread the word about her among the higher end of the market and worked on her “persona” with her until it came to Lexa as second nature.

 The older was an exceptionally popular and successful dominatrix and though she catered to the more“extreme” end of the market that Lexa tried to steer clear of, she gave Lexa the ins and outs of the business along the heads up on several perspective clients that were more up Lexa’s alley and with her guidance Lexa made a name for herself quickly with a regular, reliable, well playing clientele.

 

The two women had been through thick and thin together and it was Anya herself that had helped Lexa through the bitter breakup with Costia. Anya understands Lexa in a way that few people do and Lexa trusts her with her life.

Lexa’s arms are on fire, but not even that is enough to drown out the stress and the panic that  comes with the fact she has a date... with Clarke Griffin... in a matter of hours, and Lexa is already  convinced agreeing to it was the biggest mistake she has made in years.

 “Anya... I don’t want to do this to myself again.”

 The words slip out from between Lexa’s lips without her permission and her pride takes a significan't hit when she hears them fall out to hang between them, far more pathetic than Lexa would like them to be.

 Asian eyes narrow and scowl as Lexa drops with a grunt of relief and turns to face the other  woman dead on. Anya’s dark eyes lock onto green eyes for what Lexa feels like an eternity until  Anya softens at what she must see in them because her scowl disappears and an uncharacteristically compassionate expression takes it's place. 

 In fact, it is so unlike Anya that it automatically puts Lexa on edge, and she can feel a blush blooming that has nothing to do with her exertions as Anya tries somewhat uncomfortably to calm her “Lexa it just a date... one date. You’re over thinking this way too much. Besides, even if it was to go beyond one date you have no guarantee that things would turn out the way that they did with Costia.”

 The words hit Lexa as hard as a punch to the gut, because they are so absolutely untrue. Lexa had  gotten over Costia dumping her a long time ago, but the one thing Lexa couldn’t shake was the  look of disgust in Costia’s eyes when Lexa finally plucked up the courage to sit her down and  come clean about how exactly she was involved in the entertainment industry. 

 Needless to say, Costia did not take it well... she took it so badly in fact that Lexa never actually had much of a chance to explain nor elaborate. Costia took it so badly that she left and never looked back, refused to answer Lexa’s calls, texts, emails and eventually letters until Lexa finally accepted the other woman wanted nothing to do with her.

Of course, Lexa was heartbroken... she was young and in love with someone for the first and what she swore was the last time... but she had grieved and moved on.

Since the whole thing had happened Lexa had recovered, become stronger even if  somewhat jaded... she no longer ever counted on having anyone to love her for who she really  was outside her family and close friends... and she was ok with that. Love was weakness  anyways but nevertheless, the wound was still tender.Anya’s misplaced  optimism is the last thing that Lexa needs in that moment. Reigning in her temper Lexa’s jaw unconsciously slides from side to side before she locks it,  clenched tight as she almost snarls back “How else could they turn out Anya?”

 The other woman doesn’t shy away from Lexa’s anger, but instead inclines her head slightly; seeming to mull the girls point over as Lexa leans over and tugs the water bottle from Anya’s hand, drinking deeply while consciously avoiding her scrutinising regard. After a moment Anya leans back and sighs“Ok... so things might be a little more complicated... but Lexa... you need to do this.”

 The green eyed brunette turns away towards the changing room, tossing Anya’s water bottle back  and clicking her phone open with her other hand as she mutters “I don’t see the point in leading  her on. I’m cancelling; now.”

 Anya moves in the blink of an eye, jerking forward in once smooth movement and tugging the  phone unceremoniously from Lexa’s hand growling“Don’t you dare! Fuck it. Fuck what  happened with Costia... fuck it all Lexa! You need to get yourself out there, you need to meet people; you need to stop being a freaking hermit... Fuck... _you need to get laid_ Lexa. It’s been four years!”

 Lexa tosses her a filthy scowl before snatching her phone back and heading to the shower, trying  to ignore the sting of truth that comes with Anya’s words but still determined to stop this farce  before it even begins.

 Lexa ignores the stream of curses behind her and unlocks her phone, ready to shoot off an excuse and some apologies to Clarke when she sees a text from the very blonde herself. 

No backing out now, Woods... I spent a small fortune on those coffees.

I’ll meet you tonight in front of Indra’s, and wear flats.

Looking forward to it,

X

Clarke.” 

 

The doubt, nerves and fear do not disappear... but are somehow dulled by a glimmer of excitement  that blossoms in Lexa’s stomach. The young woman feels a smile quirk the corner of her lips,  before she bites it back sternly reminding herself that she means to cancel the date... and that will  be the end of that.

 Lexa hesitates as her fingers hover over the keyboard, twitching slightly as she forms excuse after excuse in her head. Finally, she grits her teeth, her fingers forming a response before she has a  chance to doubt herself:

 

“Very well Clarke, I will meet you there at seven.

What are we doing?

 

Regards, Lexa. ”

 Lexa lets out a shaky breath, wondering what the hell she thinks she is doing. Clarke’s reply is  pings a second later, and Lexa almost drops the phone when she is startled out of her panic by the  vibrating phone in her hand. She swipes open the message and reads:

 

“You’ll see.

X

Clarke.”

 

Intrigued Lexa frowns in confusion at the screen before she finally shrugs and smiles slightly,  thinking just how exactly like the blonde her response is. A second later a short dry laugh catches  her attention as she turns around to see Anya leaning against the door frame with a knowing smirk  on her face “So... you’re going then?”

 Lexa glowers at her before turning back to her bag and tidying her things and replying with as  much dignity as she can muster 

“Well... it would be rude to cancel on such short notice.”

 Anya stares at the back of the brunette’s curly head, her grin widening and her dark eyes  twinkling as she responds dryly “Right…absolutely.”

Lexa shuts her eyes, begging for patience as she zips up the bag and mutters “Shut up, Anya.”

  

XXX

 

 Clarke Griffin stands before her canvas, hands covered in paint with a pleased smile alighting her  pretty her face. It started a little over three weeks ago sitting in front of Lexa while she was quietly  reading a book. Light had filtered through the window and lit the young woman up and then was  when Clarke felt it; the familiar itching in her fingers, one she hadn’t felt in months. 

 Clarke swallowed down the flutter of excitement and pulled out the small sketchbook she always stowed away in her bag. Lexa was absorbed in her novel to Clarke had subtly started sketching a rough drawing of the unaware girl. It was crude and rough but its smooth unhurried lines turned out to be the most honest and alive drawing Clarke had done for months, all drawn in less than ten  minutes.

 Then it was as if the floodgates opened and since Clarke can't seem to keep her fingers still... absently doodling pretty little scribbles on her charts, to downright creating some of her most vivid works on canvas to date. Clarke had a feeling that her inspiration came from somewhere close to home, that it had something to do with a particular brunette that she was becoming particularly fond of... but Clarke tried not to over think it, she tried to feel it, tried to focus on appreciating having regained the feeling she had lost for so long.

 She stands back from her work; pleased with the bold abstract lines that all come together  independently to form a nude woman, sitting crouched with head in hands. It’s almost midday and  her stomach rumbles, driving her away from the painting towards her tiny kitchen where she  quickly reheats some pasta, too impatient to actually cook. 

While the microwave ticks away the seconds, Clarke takes a deep breath and pulls her phone from her pocket, planning to text Lexa and finalise their plans for tonight’s date. Clarke types a message that’s certainly more confident than she feels as she sends it off and pulls her steaming pasta from the microwave. The blonde sits at her spindly table and shovels the pasta into her impatient mouth, both hungry and slightly nauseous as she waits for Lexa’s response confirming the date but in all honesty she is half expecting the other woman to cancel. Her phone chips and her stomach sweeps as she swipes open the lock screen. 

A smile spreads across her face when she reads Lexa’s formal reply, stiff but still confirming the date, asking her what they will be doing. Clarke knew that she would get her with her demand “wear flats” and that Lexa’s natural curiosity and distaste for being left in the dark would play to her advantage.

The destination is a surprise but Clarke is almost sure that it will go down well. If Clarke had the Lexa pegged right she knew dinner and a movie would be far from what she would need to get Lexa to consider a second date. There was also the fact that Lexa was notoriously uptight, and Clarke feared a sit down meal this early on might turn out to be a little tense and awkward and Clarke is aiming to get Lexa to loosen up a little.

If Clarke’s idea goes down well, she hopes they can continue the date by going for a drink afterwards and at least if it doesn’t neither of them will be trapped at a table with each other to suffer through three courses. It's genius... well Clarke hopes so at least.

Clarke eventually forces herself from her duplex, slips into her little used car and sets off to Indra’s  and arrives ( unusually) too early. Clarke parks and walks from the car to stand a step or two away from the coffee shops door, waiting with growing anxiety for Lexa to show up. 

 She is waiting a minute, or perhaps two when she recognises a slim figure cross the street  ahead and her heart begins to picks up speed as the other woman draws closer bundled in a warm winter coat, a thick scarf, hat, and with the tip of her nose red from the cold. Lexa’s hair is down and falls in soft waves about her face; her face is subtly made up with just the barest hint of eyeshadow and liner on green eyes and finished off by a sweep of nude gloss on full lips. 

 Clarke can't see her outfit but even the small four inches of face exposed Clarke thinks she looks stunning. Her enthusiasm gets the better of her when Lexa actually reaches her, stopping a couple of steps away, a nervous expression on her beautiful face and Clarke greets her with a warm smile and steps forward to give her a spontaneous but quick hug. 

 When Clarke wraps her arms around her Lexa stiffens in her arms and Clarke internally kicks herself as she pulls back, cursing herself for being a self proclaimed “hugger” until she sees a ghost of a smile on Lexa’s pillow like lips, her eyes shining even though she stands as stiff as a board. 

 Clarke relaxes as she steps back and beams up at the other woman, almost dancing on the spot in her excitement “Hi!”

 Lexa’s barely there smile quirks just a little higher as she murmurs a soft “Hello, Clarke.” 

 They stand smiling dumbly at each other until Lexa shivers from the bitter cold and shoves her hands into her pockets, breaking the silence and jokes “So where are you bringing me?”

Blue eyes glitter in the dim lamplight as Clarke lifts a hand to point across the road to where her  car awaits “To my car... for now, and then it’s onto our next destination”.

Lexa narrows her eyes at the blonde and thinks about pushing her for more information but it's obvious by the amused smirk on Clarke’s face, and her crossed arms, that she will be getting nothing from the doctor. 

After a dramatic sigh Lexa rolls her eyes playfully and finally acquiesces as she moves closer to the bright red fiat 500 muttering a brief thanks as Clarke hurries to open the door for her before asking “Do you actually use your car in London?”

Clarke laughs lightly and shuts the door, walking quickly and slipping in the other side as she says  “I barely use it in the city to be fair, but it does come in handy on days like today. You don’t drive?”

Lexa settles back into the seat and buckles her seatbelt while Clarke starts the engine and edges  out onto the road. There is a brief pause before Lexa replies “I have a motorcycle... but it stays  with Indra for the most part...since I moved to Camden that I barely use it at all... can’t  bring myself to get rid of it though.”

Clarke laughs and throws a glance Lexa’s way “A motorcycle, really? I can’t picture it…”

Lexa chuckles softly and responds dryly “Would you like to, Clarke?”

Clarke laughs heartily, soft husky booms filling the tiny car even as she turns red at Lexa’s  comment. The brunette settles back, a smug smirk playing on plump lips, satisfied that for once  she has got one over on the young blonde.

Slowly they edge out of the city, settling into a comfortable silence as the radio plays softly in the  background. The weather is bad and the traffic heavy so most of Clarke’s focus has to be on the  road, but once on the motor-way the road clears and the make light small talk for the rest of the  journey. 

 Lexa is nervous but for once a little more forth coming and Clarke learns some new  nuggets of information about her. Clarke had guessed from the accent that Lexa is  Irish, but she is surprised to find out that she has been living in London since she was a child, and  she is internally surprised her accent remains so untouched.

 Lexa learns that Clarke is a passionate cook when she has the time, and that she is a far seriously involved in art than Lexa had previously realised. Favourite movies, TV shows and books are brought up which leads to Lexa admitting that she is a diehard Potter fan. Of course, this leads to admission of houses, and Lexa proudly declares she is a Ravenclaw and Clarke smirks as she admits that she is a Slytherin. 

Of course, the brunette seizes upon this piece of information with delight and teases the blonde mercilessly for the last few minutes of their journey. Clarke huffs “Hey... you know Ravenclaw’s and Slytherin”s are known for getting along with each other Woods. Besides were not all bad I’ll have you know, you big nerd.”

 Lexa laughs softly but her brow creases slightly as the tiny car pulls into a large grey and sprawling industrial park. Lexa turns to the Clarke who grins smugly as she stares at the road ahead. Lexa stares from one large hanger to another wondering what the hell Clarke is planning. Clarke laughs as Lexa jokes “You’re not planning to murder me, are you?”

 Lexa watches as Clarke shakes with mirth, caught by how gorgeous she is for a moment before Lexa shakes herself back to reality and clears her throat and swallows thickly. When Clarke’s chuckles fade she shoots back an amused “No, Woods...not yet anyways”

 Lexa scoffs and snarks back “As if you could...I’ll have you know I excel in hand to hand  combat.”

 Clarke laughs again and rolls her eyes “Of course you do.”

 A second later the young doctor finally pulls into a lot that is dominated by one huge, signless grey factory and Lexa is no closer to figuring out what it is that they are supposed to be doing. She stares out through the rain at the frankly depressing looking building, before turning to Clarke and deadpanning “So...this is where were going.”

 Clarke shuts off the engine and beams back “Yep.”

 A graceful eyebrow is raised as Lexa sasses “And you are sure you are not attempting to kill me?”

 Clarke laughs again and smiles wider as she husks “That was not the plan... but you might just  provoke me with all these questions. Trust me, Lexa...you’re gonna love it.”

Lexa’s wary green eyes meet excited blue and she finally concedes, unable to keep a straight face  and sighs “Ok fine Griffin, but I will be keeping my eyes on you at all times.”

Clarke’s smile turns into a sultry grin as she winks “That doesn’t bother me at  all. Come on.”

With that Clarke pushes open her door and steps out into the pouring rain and rushes to open the door for Lexa. The brunette blushes and follows her out of the car and then into the huge factory. 

The second Clarke opens the door Lexa’s senses are beset upon; the smell of oil and fumes is heady, there are lights that flash brightly, and Lexa’s ears are assaulted by the sound of what can only be rubber tires screeching on tarmac and rumbling engines of the carts that fly around an enormous track that sits in the middle of the hanger.

 

Lexa gapes at the speeding carts before finally turning to Clarke who watches her, nervously moving from one foot to the other as she anxiously await the brunette’s reaction. Lexa finally manages to stutter out a baffled question; “You’re bringing me... go-carting?

Clarke swallows, looking more stressed than ever as she tentatively asks “Yeah... is... is that ok?”

Lexa waits a beat, overwhelmed a little by the gorgeous wide eyed blonde who is wringing her  hands, obviously desperately hoping that her idea of a date was not a terrible idea. 

It's thoughtful… it’s sweet... and the most spontaneous thing that someone has done for her, possibly ever. It takes a second for her to process it, for her to calm the overwhelming rush of affection for the blonde, but eventually she manages a true smile, her green eyes bright as she jokes “ I... it’s great, really. Just be prepared to lose Griffin.”

Clarke sags with relief and a massive smile lights up her face in an instant. Clarke’s enthusiasm  is back, and Lexa feels her own rise with it as Clarke raises a sculpted eyebrow and challenges “Care to make that a bet, Woods?”

Lexa smirks and shucks off her coat, her full lips tilted up at one corner as she crosses her arms, and lets out a cocky chuckle ’Well... I am not much of a gambler, but I’m almost certainly going to destroy you, so why not?”

Clarke quirks her head, blues eyes bright as she returns Lexa’s smirk and teases “So cocky. Alright how about this...loser pays for the drinks tonight?”

The way Clarke is looking at her causes goosebumps to erupt on Lexa’s golden skin. She tries to keep her voice steady as she asks “There will be drinks?”

Clarke shrugs, enjoying the pink tint that’s spreading across Lexa’s cheeks “If you feel like it... this thing only lasts 45 minutes anyways.”

Lexa straightens up and regards Clarke for a moment before extending an elegant hand and  declares formally  “I accept your challenge”.

Clarke smiles and reaches forward and clasps it, feeling the smooth heat of Lexa’s skin and shoots back a confident “Let’s get on with it then.” They break apart and Clarke leads the way to the back, then the game begins.

 

Fifteen minutes later they’re both kitted up in the works; bodysuits on, helmet and badana’s in hand, each of them making their way to and stepping into their respective carts. Clarke  tosses Lexa a cheeky wink before pulling on her bandana and slipping into the go cart with ease.

Clarke can’t help glancing to Lexa who looks happier than she has ever seen her. An amused smile plays on Lexa’s lips and green eyes glimmer with excitement and Clarke thanks the gods that she went with her gut when choosing this place, even though she wasn’t sure how Lexa would feel about it.

Lexa slips into her cart and Clarke inches her cart to the starting line, soon followed by the brunette as they sit in the rumbling vehicles, eyes glued on the flagman that stands to the side, attentively waiting for the start signal.

The man lowers the flag and simultaneously both women floor the accelerator, sending the small  carts hurtling forward of the tarmac, almost neck to neck until they approach a turn where Lexa  manages to cut Clarke off in a risqué move that almost sends her hurdling into the run off area  herself. 

The rest of the race is tense, almost neck and neck with each woman gaining and losing  the advantage for over 20 minutes until Clarke suddenly launches forward, gliding her cart  smoothly through the sharp last turn at maximum speed, while Lexa slows and struggles to angle t he cart around the vicious bend. Clarke flies over the finish line, and Lexa follows her mere 3  seconds later not overly bothered that she has lost the impetuous blonde.

They park their carts and step from the cramped vehicles, stretching their legs and pulling off their  helmets and bandanas, each one holding the stare of the other. Lexa runs a hand through her soft curls that are no doubt more dishevelled than ever from the helmet, but she can’t find it in herself to care. Lexa feel lighter than she has in as long as she can remember, she had more fun than she had in years... go carting, no less. 

Driving the tiny car was liberating and fun in a way she didn’t expect and totally spontaneous. This is not the first time that the blonde has managed to surprise her, but for once Lexa is not thrown off  balance, but rather it thrills her, it excites her, and she can’t help but feel like this is the best date  she has ever been on and it’s only just begun.

Never one to concede her dignity, Lexa takes the few stops towards the smug blonde who  watches her approach as she stands lazily beside her kart, her helmet off and  tucked under her arm and the other set upon the curve of her hip. There is something about the  suit, the smirk, the girl that is primally stirring and Lexa flushes for a reason that has nothing to  with having lost so brutally to the doctor. 

As Lexa stops a step away from the other woman Clarke’s smirk turns into a smile as she teases “So… anything to say for yourself Woods?”

Though Lexa’s competitive nature is irked by the loss, she can’t keep a minuscule grin  from creeping across her face as she responds dryly “Not much, Griffin. So...where did you learn  to drive like that?”

Clarke smiles wide at Lexa’s words “Yeah... well, it’s something my dad and I did a lot growing  up... and to be fair, you held your own... but you never stood a chance, Woods.”

Lexa allows a soft huff of laughter as she jokes “I was hustled then?”

 Clarke shrugs and throws her a cheeky wink and Lexa flushes again as she asks “Wanna go again?”

 Lexa shakes her ruefully “I don’t think so....”

The doctor’s smile falters slightly as she swallows, shrugging it off as she says lightly “Ok... well I  guess I’ll drop you home then.”

It takes a second for Lexa to understand why Clarke seems so disappointed, until she realises that Clarke misunderstands her refusal; Clarke's downtrodden expression causes a surge of affection for the  young doctor and Lexa bumps Clarke lightly on the shoulder and jokes “You won’t get rid of me just yet, Griffin. I owe you a night of drinks, remember?”

Clarke’s face transforms from disappointed to so absurdly happy so fast that Lexa actually blinks in  surprise as Clarke practically dances on the spot in excitement “Really?” Great!  Well head back to town and drop the car somewhere and ill pick it up tomorrow.”

 

XXX

 

The drive is short and filled with banter, well... mainly Clarke Griffins  relentless teasing, but it feels good. It feels nice, and for once Lexa feels at ease though she tries  not to think too much about that, tries not to overthink any of it. 

They park the car in the city centre and then brave the cold on the short walk to a nice pub Lexa  directs them to. They step from the frigid air into the warm bustling atmosphere with relief and  luckily manage to grab a corner table before the place starts getting really packed.  Clarke glances around the cosy and quirky interior and nods approvingly “I like it.”

 Lexa’s eyes crinkle slightly and she smiles just wide enough to see a flash of white; a rare glimpse of the possibilities that Lexa’s full smile could behold. That slight crinkle and that flash of teeth is enough to steal Clarke’s focus until Lexa awkwardly clears her throat and asks “So what would you like to drink?”

Clarke blinks herself out of her daze and blushes, her voice an octave lower as she replies “A gin  and tonic, please.”

Lexa stands from the table with a smile and steps to the bar, returning a minute later with a Gin  and Tonic and a Jameson and White in hand and then reclaims her seat beside the Clarke,  slipping into the booth with ease.

 As she settles down Lexa suddenly realises how close she is to the other woman as her sweet perfume filters in through her nose, and then turns her head, locking eyes with the blonde whose mouth is just inches away. Lexa tears her eyes away and she passes the glass and Clarke accepts it with thanks. Clarke sips her drink gratefully before shooting a wary grimace at Lexa’s glass “Whiskey and...Lemonade? Really?”

 Lexa smiles “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it... it’s actually delicious.”

Clarke’s nose wrinkles beautifully as she jokes“I’ll take your word for it.”

Then Clarke smiles and Lexa’s eyes are drawn to the way her lips part, to the adorable beauty spot that hangs on the right hand corner of her mouth, to the way her teeth aren’t perfectly even but somehow make her smile all the more charming for it.

Clarke laughs when the brunette is caught staring, noting how her pretty little ears flush red and how her cheeks are tinged with a light pink. Lexa shifts awkwardly before Clarke shoots her a gentle smile, leans back in her chair and asks “Ok Lex... So, I know you like books, exercise…weirdo that you are. I know you’re Irish.... and that’s pretty much it. Let’s rectify that shall we?”

Lexa swallows the anxiety, forces a light smile and quips “I agreed to pay for your drinks for tonight Clarke, not to an inquisition.”

 Clarke narrows her eyes a moment, weighing up her response”Fair enough... but what about this? I answer one question of your choosing and you answer one of mine. We each have three questions that we can Veto... but other than that we have to answer the question... what do you think?”

Lexa pauses, looking into wide and eager blue eyes and finds herself unable to say no. With a resigned sigh she takes a deep drink of her drink and then slowly nods “Alright.”

 

XXX

 

Three drinks later the two women are laughing freely at the table, each teasing the other about the  most embarrassing event ever to have happened to them to date. Over all the game has been a  success, conversation is flowing, and both women get to know each other a little better with each question. Lexa learns Clarke never wanted to be a doctor, but had gotten into it because she was expected to carry on the family legacy, but ultimately is happy she became a doctor.

Clarke learns that Lexa loves to write, anything and everything. Lexa learns Clarke works with her mother but the relationship is tense, and Clarke learns that Lexa has a little brother. They learn various random pieces of information such as; Lexa loves dogs, coffee and funnily enough socks.

Clarke likes cars, painting and literally anything art related. The vetoed questions are simple; Lexa refuses to answer how she knows Indra, work related questions, and how her last relationship ended. Clarke for her part refuses to answer why her relationship was so strained with her mother, or how her last relationship had ended. 

Clarke has one veto left, Lexa none and Clarke has the fantastic idea to ask Lexa to  spill her most embarrassing moment, and Lexa is obliged to begrudgingly tell her.

This is how Lexa is now nursing her third whiskey and lemonade, recounting the most embarrassing moment of her life with a resentful scowl, while her date looks on with delight.

“Well...I was in secondary school and about thirteen or so. I remember my stomach was hurting but I didn’t think so much of it... until I stood up to go to my next class when one of the boys pointed at my chair and started laughing, and telling me to turn around. What had happened was that I had got my first period except due to a severe... lack of education about such matters I freaked out. I ran from the class and to the bathroom, pulled down my underwear and then saw the mess... and convinced myself I was dying. I think I was crying when the teacher of the class came to find me, she explained what was happening. Cleaned me up, got me a pair of PE bottoms from lost property, and gave me the relevant information and necessities. For the rest of the year I was called Period Pants... until the other kids eventually got bored of it.”

Clarke blinks and holds in a chuckle though her eyes sympathetic “Jesus... poor you.”

Lexa shrugs it off with an easy smile, offering the Clarke a crooked smile and taking a sip of her  drink as she quips “You wanted to know... so there you have it.”

Clarke finishes off the last of her drink before joking “My mom was a doctor... I  got the birds and the bees talk frighteningly early... but still, I can’t believe you thought you were  actually going to die!”

 Lexa rolls her eyes but responds good-naturedly “I was thirteen... give me a break.”

Clarke laughs again and shifts around to look at the brunette a little better “Didn’t any of your  friends have it?”

Lexa’s smile fades slightly as her shoulders tense. A long second passes before she states  offhandedly “I was not particularly friendly as a child, Clarke.” Clarke senses that she is treading  across a very thin line and decides to lighten the atmosphere and jokes. “Ok... I take pity on you...  I’ll tell you mine.”

Lexa’s smile creeps slowly back and she relaxes and she scoots a little closer to the blonde who  lowers her husky voice and beckons Lexa closer. The brunette leans in, trying to not let her eyes  flutter at the floral scent that is Clarke and smiles as she fixes her with a dramatic stare and begins  “Right.... so I was seventeen…”

 

XXX

 

The women sit and talk; the slow steady flow of alcohol and good company makes Lexa forget  her nerves and her eyes occasionally flicker between blue eyes and soft looking lips. It is a  struggle to keep her thoughts clean and to focus on the funny and captivating girl beside her but it's difficult to fight her mind that drifts to dark places that Lexa hasn’t felt the urge to visit in years.

After what feels like just an hour at the bar but really must be three Lexa is not drunk... just a little  buzzed from the four drinks consumed at the little table. Lexa is riveted on yet another one of Clarke’s hilarious stories when the barmaid comes over an apologetically tells them it is past closing. 

 Both women are pulled from their little world to notice that the music has been cut and the  lights are on and the pub is empty aside from two swaying men shuffling drunkenly from the bar. Both women look at each other in surprise, quickly gathering their things and stepping outside into  the cold. Clarke herself seems uncharacteristically unsure as they over by the door, hands fisted in  pockets and chins tucked low against the cold.

They stand before the pub and Lexa thinks to herself; it was a good date...a great date even. 

In Lexa’s alcohol liberated mind, she finds herself wanting to go on another, and another after that. It’s been an eternity since the brunette simply allowed herself to go out like this, is been longer still since someone has made her feel like this, and for once perhaps due to the alcohol... Lexa finds itmore than just terrifying. 

Lexa finds it intriguing, piquing... and exciting. Somehow the other woman draws something out that  Lexa had thought long buried and she shifts unconsciously closer to the blonde who studies her with curious blue eyes.

Little bubbles of reason appear in Lexa’s mind, bubbles filled with endless reasons why she should not do what she is about to do... but the bubbles just as quickly pop as Clarke’s tongue  darts out to lick her lips and her eyes darken at Lexa’s proximity. 

Lexa moves closer but can’t bring herself to close the distance. Both women stand close, willing the other to take the next step forward, until after a moment it becomes apparent that neither woman will break. It takes all Clarke has not to give in, not to pull the brunette to her and kiss her with all the feeling she has been holding in for weeks, but she manages, clearing her throat awkwardly as she jokes “So... that was fun”.

Lexa is amused and a little thrilled that Clarke seems so on edge, and celebrates the fact that she is the one that has her there. She smiles, a soft full smile, her lips parting to reveal bright even teeth, revealing a small crease between the skin of her lips and nose, her green eyes crinkling with  amusement as she states a soft “It was.”

It is basic, to the point, and the bare minimum of a response that Clarke at this point should come to expect. Clarke internally screams in frustration which is quickly followed by a competitive burst  of optimism, because she wants this but she will be damned if she will let Lexa know just how  much. 

Clarke’s eyes narrow, her nervousness disappearing behind what Lexa can only perceive as a challenge as she husks. “So you enjoyed yourself?”

Clarke shifts closer, bringing them almost chest to chest leaving just an inch of space between  them. Lexa smiles wider, but gives nothing away as she becomes aware that dark eyes are now  fixed on her mouth and she decides to continue the game of cat and mouse “I did.”

 Blue eyes flicker from her mouth back to her eyes and Lexa, so previously calm feels her heart rate jump up several gears as the inch of space disappears and they stand so close that each puff of their breath in the night air mingles with the others. 

 Lexa doesn’t understand what happens next; one second she is starting into dark blue eyes that drift closer and closer, and the next she is tilting her head forward to close the last sliver of space between their lips.

The instant their mouths touch Lexa feels a shot of what feel like electricity flash through her entire  body, in the next her breath is stolen as Clarke’s soft lips mould and press to hers gently, again and  again until to her disappointment they pull away, all too soon.

Clarke chuckles lightly as she parts from the pillow like surface, determined not to get lost to the  kiss; not this soon, not until she is sure she is going to see Lexa again... not until she is sure Lexa  actually wants to go somewhere with this. 

Clarke already likes Lexa too much... there is no coming out of this unscathed but she can at least minimise the damage. When Clarke does pull back, she is met with a slack jawed Lexa; her green eyes wide and dark and her kissed lips shine in the lamplight. The brunette looks delightfully stunned and it takes all Clarke’s will not to just say fuck it and lean in to kiss Lexa again.

Taking a deep breath she puts some space between and throws a hand out to hail a taxi. Lexa is  still dumbstruck when seconds later a black cab pulls up onto the street and Clarke gently clasps  her hand and stands on tip toe to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. Lexa comes back to herself  and opens her mouth once or twice to speak, but nothing comes out. Clarke laughs and tosses her  a wink as she leans forward to open then taxi door for her, holding it as she smiles and says “See  you tomorrow, Woods.”

Lexa smiles softly back and finally manages to find her words; “See you tomorrow, Clarke.” as she slides into the taxi, her thoughts stuck on her lips that still tingle. Clarke watches a moment as the taxi trundles away and then throws out a hand for her own. Her lips still burn with the ghost of what was left of Lexa’s kiss. It was hard to let her go, hard not to pull the other woman close and kiss her senseless, but Clarke decides that she has chased the other woman for over a month, and now is the time to give Lexa space to decide what she wants from her.

Clarke has a feeling things are complicated for Lexa, but she knew the brunette was attracted to her... after all she wasn’t blind, or oblivious. Clarke notices the involuntary scan of her being every weekday morning at the coffee shop, she observes how green eyes light up every time she walks in... hell, she even noticed how those same eyes drop and linger on her mouth more and more frequently, and for longer each time. So, Clarke safely assumes that Lexa fancies her... but does she like her? At least the way Clarke likes her?

Clarke would like to think that was the case, but the other woman is so hard to read that it is  difficult to be sure. One thing however is sure; no matter how much Clarke likes the brunette the  ball is now in Lexa’s court.

 

XXX

 

The next morning Clarke makes her way from the tube to the cafe, for once not exhausted from  coming off a tail end of a night shift. When she had woken up that morning, though her mouth  was a little dry she has no trace of a hangover and she got dressed and left her apartment with an  excited flutter in her belly, knowing that Lexa as usual would be sitting in the café with a book in  hand. This time however is different, because for once Clarke believes there is more than a solid  base for her feelings for Lexa, and there is even a good chance those feelings are  returned.

Of course Clarke is still anxious... it is entirely possible that Lexa will put stop to it before it even  begins, but her doubts are soothed slightly when Clare spots Lexa at her usual seat on the inside of the cafe.

 Clarke takes a moment to study the unsuspecting woman; instead of reading as she  normally does, Lexa sits with her eyes flickering between the window and door, her head jerking  eagerly every time she catches sight of a blonde only to comically press into a thin line of  disappointment every time turns out to not be the blonde she is looking for. When Lexa does  eventually catch sight of Clarke a slow close lipped smile lights up her face as Clarke weaves her  way towards her through the crowded café.

 When Clarke slips into the comfortable armchair she is unable to stop herself from her eyes  zooming straight to Lexa’s plump lips, reliving the feeling of them against her own last night. With  difficulty Clarke settles back and drags her eyes up to Lexa’s, noting the brunette exhale a shaky  breath as she does so.

 Lexa blushes under Clarke’s heated gaze and twiddles her fingers on her lap as she avoids Clarke’s amused smirk and instead glances up to the counter. Lexa catches Indra’s eye straight away and gives her a subtle nod, and less than a minute later Indra bustles over with grin on her lips as she places the cups down on the tiny table between the two women and whirls away. Lexa clears her throat awkwardly and raises an elegant hand to gesture to the steaming cups settled between them and states rather redundantly, “I eh... I got you coffee.”

 Clarke smiles and accepts the cup, leaning forward and cupping it in her chilled hands gratefully  as she says “Thanks, Lexa.”

Clarke is pleased when as a slight blush lights up Lexa’s high cheekbones, and throws adds to the effect by throwing her a wink that has tiny ears turning a violent red. Lexa shuffles a moment in discomfort before returning the blondes smile, and tossing in an exaggerated eye roll for good measure. 

Finally the awkwardness melts away and instead is replaced by a comfortable silence while they sit quietly, allowing the necessary morning dose of caffeine to filter into their bloodstreams before their calm is broken by the chirp of Lexa’s phone.

The brunette startles and almost drops her coffee, Clarke lets out a laugh as Lexa shoots her a  filthy scowl and pulls her phone from her bag. A second later Clarke’s laughter stops when Lexa’s  blush fades as she stares at her phone, her lips pressing into a thin line as she breathes out a  frustrated huff from flared nostrils.

After a second Lexa shoves the phone back in her bag and turns to her cup, taking an aggressive  slurp of coffee as Clarke watches her curiously. “Everything alright…?”

 Lexa pauses before she glances back up at her, her expression pained as she grumbles “I have to  deal with something... Now.” 

 Lexa sighs before continuing, her green eyes locked on Clarke’s blue as she proceeds, her voice a little hesitant, and slightly softer than usual as she says “I had… hoped to have more time with you this morning, Clarke. To... to talk... but I have to go.”

The blonde ignores the pang of regret and smiles reassuringly. Clarke would be lying if she said  she wasn’t disappointed that they didn’t have a chance to talk about last night but that is at least  somewhat soothed by how bothered Lexa seems to cut their morning coffee short “No problem  Lexa. Thanks for the coffee.”

 Lexa frowns and worries her lip a moment before she finishes off the dregs of her coffee. She places her cup down carefully, deliberately before she turns to look at Clarke head on. The two women stare at each other a moment as Lexa seems to try to say something before changing her mind; closing her mouth tight and flushing with frustration. 

Lexa stops and tries again, growing more flustered with each attempt and Clarke tries to listen patiently... she really does but the only thing Clarke can think about is tucking the errant strand of hair behind Lexa’s adorably tiny ears.

Lexa tries one more time to get out what is on her mind and again fails before stopping entirely muttering “I... I...just... never mind.”

Clarke watches her curiously as Lexa looks at her forlornly; an adorable pout set on full lips  before Lexa reluctantly forces herself to her feet and shucks on her coat. Clarke is on her  feet before she knows it, the words coming out of her mouth before they’ve even formed in her mind as she blurts “I’ll walk you out”.

Clarke sees the brunette inhale a quick breath and gestures to the blonde to lead the  way from the cafe. Once outside Lexa pauses by the door, shifting her weight from one foot  before training and agonized gaze on Clarke. Seconds slip by and silence stretches, so many seconds in fact that the silence grows increasingly uncomfortable. Clarke waits for Lexa to say something, anything but baleful green eyes just stare at her while she worries her lip and Clarke is pretty much at a loss of what to do next.

When it is apparent that nothing will be said, Clarke decides not to push the it and to end this embarrassed torture. Clarke coughs awkwardly, shooting Lexa a weak smile as she places a hand on the door handle; her mouth opening to say her goodbyes until a slender hand reaches out and covers the clasped one on the door, firmly holding it closed.

Clarke’s breath catches when the tortured expression on Lexa’s face transforms to one of determination as Lexa takes a tiny step closer and fixes her green eyes on blue. Lexa gently tugs Clarke’s hand from the the handle takes it in her own. Clarke glances town to the joined hands and then back up to Lexa whose nervous yet sincere expression doesn’t waver as her soft voice cuts through the bustle of the traffic “Would you come out with me again, Clarke?”

Clarke is instantly elated, before quickly quieting the internal parade of celebration to answer the  other woman who waits wide eyed for her response. Clarke offers the nervous girl  an easy smile, tugs on Lexa’s hand playfully as she husks an amused “I’d love to.”

The way Lexa sags with relief is hilarious and the pleased little smile that lights up her face is  adorable. Lexa looks lightheaded with relief and Clarke finds herself struck with the familiar need t o tease her, along with giving the other woman a little taste of her own medicine.Two can play hard to get, Clarke thinks to herself as a wicked smile claims it’s place upon her cheeks.

The  mischievous smile is not lost on Lexa, nor is it unfamiliar... and Lexa braces herself for what she is sure to follow. Clarke’s grin grows and she and her blue eyes twinkle as she teases “I will agree to go out with you gain... but on one condition.”

Lexa sighs, her expression resigned yet curious. A part of her has expected something like this, especially considering how difficult Lexa had made things for her. The brunette narrows her eyes and studies Clarke who beams back before rolling her eyes and gruffly demands “What condition?”

Clarke smiles wider, her eyes twinkling in amusement as she elaborates “We can go out on another date but only on the condition that you kiss me again... right now... before you leave.”

Clarke beams up at the other woman who has gone painfully still; her expression unreadable until  green eyes glance down to Clarke’s lips and then back up. Seconds pass and though Lexa’s  expression remains as calm and collected as ever as ever Clarke notices the dark blush that slowly creeps up Lexa’s neck; to her cheeks, and all the way to her ears as Clarke waits and watches in  amusement, eyebrow raised in both challenge and invitation.

For a second Clarke thinks Lexa is about to turn her down, to pull away but instead Lexa tugs on  the hand between them and pulls Clarke closer. The brunette takes another second to gather  herself before she disengages their joined hands; she then places her left palm on Clarke’s hip  while the right comes to rest against the doctor’s cheek, trembling slightly as Lexa takes a deep  breath and looks into blue. Green eyes search Clarke’s a moment for any trace of doubt, and not  finding any Lexa finally leans in and kisses her firmly on the lips.

This kiss contains the same electricity as last nights kiss, but in itself is completely different.  Lexa’s lips today are softer; more pliant and as they move with concentrated intention against  Clarke’s own. Clarke responds to the soft pressure, revelling in the kiss before Lexa pulls back,  her nose gliding gently against Clarke’s as she changes the angle as her hand tightens around Clarke’s hip; leaning forward to capture Clarke’s lips again.

The next time their lips meet Clarke cannot help but brush those pillow like lips with just the tip of her tongue, savouring a subtle taste of coffee and a sweetness that is all Lexa’s own. Lexa starts slightly at the contact before a low hum rumbles in her chest and she responds in kind and Clarke’s head swims when those hopelessly plump lips open and her tongue is caressed with the tip of Lexa’s own, impossibly warm and soft against her. Seconds pass and the kiss becomes deep; heated, infused with longing... it is also wholly inappropriate while standing in front of a bustling café at 9 am on a weekday morning.

Not that they care, they're lost as they kiss each other with unintended passion until  they are both jerked out of their trance by the irritating and insistent buzz of Lexa’s phone ringing  in her pocket. As they break the kiss, their lips part with an audible smack and they both pull  slightly back to catch their breath.

Lexa pants; eyes closed as she leans forward to rest her forehead against Clarke’s, savouring the tingle in her lips as Clarke calms her breathing against her. Seconds pass before Lexa opens her eyes and when she does green eyes instantly meet the clear blue that are now almost entirely swallowed by black. Lexa is still gasping for breath as a slow dumb smile spreads across Clarke’s face and she rasps a soft “Wow”.

Lexa releases a silent chuckle as she reluctantly disengages herself from the blonde. The women  stare at each other a beat, coy smiles lingering on their faces until Lexa eventually husks “So... I  trust now that that condition has been filled that I may count on your company for dinner?  Maybe...tomorrow night?”

Clarke is still in recovery from the kiss, her body burning from the heat of the exchange as she tries quiet the rush of lust that is surging through her. The woman valiantly tries to rally her thoughts as she guiltily focuses on the smiling brunette and finally manages to stutter “Yeah... sure. Definitely... yeah.”For once, Lexa doesn’t try to contain the huge open mouthed grin that splits across her face at

Clarke’s agreement. The blonde’s eyes zero on the small crease that appears between her upper lip and nose, and then on the subtle dimple that lies to each side of a full and gorgeous mouth, filled with blindingly white teeth. Clarke just blinks, trying to comprehend the sheer magnitude of Lexa Wood’s smile as the brunette lifts a hand in parting and takes a step back as she teases “Until tomorrow then, Griffin.”

Clarke nods, her words caught as Lexa a turns and strides up the street, leaving the awestruck doctor behind her; suddenly confronted with the reality of just how far she has allowed herself to  fall for Lexa Woods, and in such a short time.


	4. This Was Never Supposed To Happen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So guys this is a bit of a dramatic chapter, a bit violent so maybe proceed with caution. 
> 
> Clarke and Lexa have been dating for a couple of weeks now, things are advancing slowly but surely... a fact that has Lexa on edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for such a late update, work is a killer and I recently got offered a new job so I gotta move countries before next month. Adulting is hard. I miss last year, university... free time *sigh*. Anyways, here is chapter 3 might be a while before chapter 4 but I will update eventually, I promise. 
> 
> Also, if anyone notices any discrepancies could someone for the love of god pleeease point them out? It took me three months to realise that chapter 2 was missing an integral part, and as Im hella busy sometimes I miss things.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are the fire that keeps this burning, its nice to know what people think ( good or bad) after you spend so much time working on something.

 

**This Was Never Supposed To Happen.**

 

People say that when you are not looking for something, is the time you are most likely to find it.

Maybe that is how Lexa Woods stumbled head first into a romantic entanglement with Clarke Griffin… even against her better judgement. Six weeks have passed. Six weeks since Lexa finally submitted to the idea of a first date with the blonde, six weeks since she realised she wanted to see her again, four weeks since they first kissed and it all seemed to spiral out of her control from there. 

It is like her heart and body have joined forces against her mind and it’s terrifying. Regardless of whether Lexa openly admit's it, her feelings for Clarke are clear. While she might not be ready for a relationship she can’t stop herself from spending every spare minute with the doctor. If they weren't out together in the evening for drinks, a movie, or simply snuggling in at Clarke’s house against the cold, then they saw each other almost every morning at Indra’s for coffee. 

They laugh, they joke, they kiss and they cuddle…Clarke and Lexa are dating in almost every sense of the word even though Lexa refuses to admit it. 

She tries her hardest not to acknowledge the time slipping by, struggles not to overthink the amount of time she spends with the blonde. Lexa studiously ignores the blue eyes and cheeky smiles always play on her mind and how her heart skips a beat when they kiss, how her body thrums wanting _more._

And this is a problem. One of the biggest mistakes she could make would be to become attached to the young doctor… however, despite the constant battle she fights internally, Lexa seems to be losing this war on all fronts. 

Lexa has feelings for Clarke, real feelings and she knows it.

Even though the very thought of a relationship scares the shit out of Lexa, her biggest worry is one that she didn't really expect; Lexa is terrified of losing Clarke as a friend.

Lexa’s life so far has been a fairly lonely one, with only a few select friendships that have stood the test of time. In all of Lexa’s 27 years she has never met anyone quite like the doctor; someone so caring and clumsy, so brash but sweet, enthusiastic yet cautious, artistic and driven… and so beautiful, inside and out.  Clarke Griffin is entirely too good a person to be with someone like her, and Lexa knows it.

She believed in love once, believed that if it was the real deal it could make it through anything…but Lexa was naive back then. Now she knows better, after all… she has learned the hard way that people only love who they think you are and unfortunately… the real you is often expendable. 

When Costia walked, she walked away from Lexa who had laid herself bare. Everything. Her job, her childhood, her life... Lexa had spilled it all. When Costia left Lexa had sworn to herself to never open herself to that kind of pain again, never to be stupid enough to allow herself to believe that someone could love her, as she is, with her past, her present, and her future. 

As much as she knows this though, Lexa can’t seem to bring herself to call it off with Clarke completely. 

There is just something about the doctor that makes Lexa feel… something more.

Maybe it’s because Clarke is so at ease with herself, with Lexa, with everyone. Maybe its because Clarke is who she is without apology or desire to be anyone else, a trait Lexa admires greatly. Fuck, maybe it’s simply because she _is_ Clarke…and that’s what Lexa likes the most. 

Clarke never asks for anything Lexa isn't ready to give; she never pushes, declares, or demands but instead lets Lexa take one shaky step at a time forward, and often two steps back. 

Lexa knows that she is already on the brink of falling for the blonde…the feelings are all there and more but she can't bring herself to take the next step in their relationship both emotionally _and_ physically. Lexa won’t allow herself to give that much… not if she can't give all of herself.

 

XXX

 

Clarke splashes ice cold water on her face, trying to rinse away the fatigue along with the grime of the day.  And a hell of a day it was; a twelve hour shift, _stacks_ of mind numbing paperwork and the now constant pain in her ass; Mr Wallace who seems set on persecuting her personally. 

Dante Wallace often pops up during consultations, he reviews her paperwork personally and seems to have made it his mission to either break her or at least to drive her to quit. Clarke doesn’t understand the personal vendetta he seems to have taken up against her, but she absolutely refuses to give him the satisfaction of her resignation even though the strain of working in the hellhole is starting to take its toll.

Packing up her things Clarke starts the journey back to Brixton, slipping onto the tube with a weary sigh and sliding into the crush of people. It's early evening on a Monday and even though Clarke is exhausted she feels her fingers itch in her pocket against her phone, eager to text Lexa.

She misses her; it has been almost a week since they last saw each other, even for morning coffee. Between Clarke being saddled with on-call shifts all week and Lexa’s weekend plans with her brother, it’s the longest they have gone without seeing each other since they started dating. She supposes one more day won’t kill her… but it would be nice to see the brunette.

Clarke only thinks it over for a second before digging out her phone from her pocket and shoots off a quick text to Lexa.

 “Hey Nerd, wanna come over for dinner?”

As she wait's for a reply Clarke allows her thoughts to wander to the enigma that is Lexa Woods; a woman who over a period of three short months since having met her has somehow caused Clarke Griffin to become completely and utterly besotted. 

**A** s much as Clarke is willing to openly admit that she likes Lexa, she is not an idiot. Clarke’s gotten to know Lexa pretty well in the short time they have known each other and proceeds with extreme caution. She knows that Lexa is skittish and likely to bolt, so she makes sure to give Lexa own space, to resist the urge to chase and allow the other woman to come to her, at her own pace.

Clarke tries for her own sake to keep her feelings in check and to not let her heart completely over-rule her mind because there is something Clarke can’t completely ignore, as much as she would like to. 

Lexa has secrets…a lot of them by the looks of it. She clams up about work, family and her past, either evasively deflecting Clarke’s questions or simply out right refusing to discuss it and it's becoming an increasing concern that Lexa will _never_ open up to her. 

Clarke is not expecting Lexa to spill her deepest and darkest secrets but she would like to know more about the woman she is falling for; about her back ground, her family, this famous Aden that she hears so much about. Lexa isn't just weird about talking about her family, which Clarke could understands, but work too.

It may be a little crazy but even after 3 months of knowing Lexa Woods, Clarke has very little idea of what Lexa actually does for a living. She knows the bare basics; she is an investor in Indra’s, she has a very flexible work schedule and money doesn't seem to be an issue, but beyond that… Clarke can only guess. Any time Clarke has brought up, in passing or with a more direct question Lexa has completely and utterly shut it down and over time Clarke simply stopped bringing it up. 

What Lexa is and isn't willing to discuss is a minefield to navigate and more than once an simple off hand question has caused conversation to grind to a halt and even once for Lexa to make up an excuse and leave. Its a struggle because three months into a friendship and one month into a relationship the elephant in the room is becoming harder and harder to work around.

It’s concerning but Clarke ultimately decides not to push and to wait for the brunette to open up at her own pace.

Lexa is worth it, of that much Clarke is certain. She might be a hard nut to crack but there is an amazing person behind that abrasive exterior that has Clarke hooked.

Though she might act all hard and cold, Clarke often gets to see the girl behind the stoic mask that turns a light shade of pink anytime she plucks up the courage to slip her hand into Clarke’s. Clarke gets to see the the subtle crinkle around Lexa’s eyes even while her face battles to stay blank as she submit's to Clarke’s teasing. Clarke is lucky enough to see Lexa's often hidden, dry and goofy sense of humour that has Clarke in stitches every time. When Lexa cracks a joke, Clarke notices how Lexa swells with poorly contained pride as Clarke huskily chuckles and green eyes shine at Clarke’s delight. 

Lexa may not be much of a talker but there is a lot going on in that mind of hers and Clarke is sure that her feelings are not one sided. The brunette’s face may remain carefully controlled but Clarke knows the secret to reading her is through her eyes. If you are careful enough and pay attention, Lexa’s emotions are spelt out there as clearly as if they were written on a page… and Clarke is paying attention. 

She sees affection and fear there, along with warmth, desire and restraint. It is a complex mix of emotions that the doctor is still trying to figure out, but little by little she is getting there.

But Lexa doesn't make it easy.

While it’s clear that Lexa is very attracted to her (Clarke notices how dark and wild Lexa’s eyes are after they pull away from a kiss, breathing heavy and her hands shaking) there is something that is holding Lexa back from taking their relationship to the next level; physically. 

Clarke _knows_ that Lexa wants to… all the signs are all there. It’s more and more often that Lexa crowds into Clarke’s space until she is backed against a wall. Then she leans in to bite Clarke lip and then kisses her with such unfettered passion that Clarke thinks; this is it. Lexa’s hands grip her hips so tight it hurts, the kisses become deeper, but as always Clarke feels the shift that comes. 

It happens every time; a low whine comes from Lexa’s throat as she forces herself back from Clarke, a dark look on her face as she mutters her apologies and rearranges her clothes, backing away from the blonde quickly and blowing out a shaky breath.  It is… confusing and maddening… all at the same time. 

Clarke’s phone chimes and she is pulled from her thoughts as she fishes it from her pocket. Clarke flushes and glances about her on the tube, thankful no-one could see what had been replaying in her mind just seconds before. Clarke curses when she notes the tingling between her legs and unlocks the phone to read the message;

“I may be a nerd but you're a total geek. I mean… who prefers Batman to Potter? See you tonight. I’ll bring dinner. X”

 

Clarke laughs and slips her phone back into her pocket, her exhaustion from the twelve hour shift completely forgotten and her worries pushed to the back of her mind as the prospect of seeing Lexa drastically improves her mood. 

 

XXX

 

It is a Monday night that Lexa finds herself picking through the streets of Brixton with a steaming paper bag in one hand and bottled of chilled rosé in the other. She turns down the narrow side street and stops before an azur blue wooden door that is thick and warped, marked with a sliver stained glass window that flickers; alit from the inside. It’s not the first time she has been to Clarke’s house but she always feels as unsure as she did the first time she called over, almost three weeks ago. 

Clarke’s house is small, homely, comfortable and utterly Clarke inside and out; a series of bold colours and organised clutter all that somehow adds to it's charm. It’s almost been a week since the women have actually seen each other and even though they talked everyday Lexa is excited to actually have Clarke in front of her, face to face. 

So excited in fact, that ever punctual Lexa happens to find herself a half an hour early and standing outside Clarke’s door with hot food in hand, wondering what to do.

Clarke is probably not expecting her… but she is here… and it's cold. After a minute of tortured reflection Lexa swallows her embarrassment and decides that it is better to be early with hot food than on time with frigid curry. With a deep breath and another muttered curse Lexa raises her hand to knock on the old iron knocker and waits for Clarke to open it. 

 It takes a minute or two of what Lexa guesses is frantic tidying from the noises and bangs she hears filter through the door and a minute later the door is yanked open.Clarke stands wide-eyed,in paint covered overalls and hair thrown up in a messy bun, her flustered gaze quickly disappears when she sees Lexa’s characteristic slow smile light up her face, and returns it instantly. The two women stand for a moment just taking each other in before Clarke comes back to herself and steps back from the door, waving at Lexa to enter and muttering harried apologies for a non-existent mess. In passing Lexa notices a yellow smudge on Clarke’s cheek and teasingly raises a finger and gently pokes the blob before leaning in and giving her cheek a soft kiss of greeting. 

Clarke beams and wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist in a fierce hug before placing a firm kiss against pert lips. Lexa smiles and responds in kind, kissing Clarke with fervour until she feels the blonde mutter against her lips with a smile “You’re early.” 

Lexa smiles back, kissing her again before responding “I am.” Clarke chuckles and tries to deepen the kiss but Lexa pulls back and hold the steaming bag between them, proclaiming proudly “I may be early but I come bearing sustenance!” 

Clarke lets out a pleased hum as she takes the bag and bottle from Lexa’s hands and leads the way to the kitchen. Lexa settles herself at the rickety table, smiling contentedly as she watches Clarke move around the tiny kitchen with ease, pulling plates and glasses down before she whisking them all to the table. Lexa sets about opening the wine while Clarke plates up the dinner and soon both women are happily tucking in, sharing snippets of conversation through pleased mumbles of pleasure as the food steadily disappears, bite by bite. 

 Soon both of them have finished their meals and Clarke struggles to argue when Lexa stands and scoops up the plates, toting them to the sink while she proceeds to ignore all Clarke’s feeble protests. Lexa throws her an amused glance, noting how the doctor teeters on the edge of a food induced coma at the kitchen table. She lets her eyes drink in the blonde for a minute as the sink fills up, noting more splashes of paint that cover her forearms, dungarees and shirt. 

 “Working on something new?” she asks, leaning to dip the plates into the rapidly rising bubbles.

 Clarke watches her with a sleepy smile, her voice tired and husky when she replies “Yeah, well sort of…I’ve been working on this one a while… but I think it's almost done.” 

Lexa grins as she scrubs the plates, tossing a glance to the exhausted blonde who is still smilingat her dopely. Lexa raises her voice slightly over the splash of water her voice “Can I see it when it’s finished?”

Clarke hums at the table a second before a cheeky tilt lifts the corner of her lips “Of course Woods… but I’ll only show you mine if you show me yours. You gotta show me one of those stories your always writing.”

Lexa pinks at the no doubt intended double entendre, and then harder at the very idea of sharing one of her writings with anyone. Lexa remains silent a moment before she begrudgingly grumbles “I’ll consider it, Griffin.”

 “Shit! Really??” The way Clarke’s face lights up is instantaneous, her tired smile is replaced by a large grin and sleepy eyes glint with excitement. Lexa just rolls her eyes and returns her attention to the plate in her hands but Clarke’s eyes don't leave her for a second, and a minute later Lexa hears low rasp that she is loathe to refuse. “Lex… Come here.” 

Lexa puts down the plate eagerly and comes willingly, immediately crowding into Clarke's space as the blonde captures her around the hips from her sitting position and then nuzzles her face into Lexa’s soft woollen jumper. They both enjoy the hug for a minute before a husky and muffled voice comes from Lexa’s belly. Lexa looks down in amusement as she strokes blonde hair, unable to make out what the doctor is mumbling “What was that?”

Clarke’s head pops up and cerulean eyes meet jade as she says again “So… what are we watching?”

The blissful moment is cut short as a small frown creases Lexa’s brow and she pulls back a little to begin her apology. “I can’t stay much longer Clarke… I have something I have to do tonight. I just wanted to see you… even if just for dinner. I wish I could stay awhile longer though, I’m sorry.”

An adorable but prominent pout sets in on Clarke’s face as she mumbles in tired confusion “But… it's almost 10pm… what have you gotta be doing at this time of night anyways?”

Even though question is not sharp, not interrogatory, Lexa stiffens immediately in Clarke’s embraceand after a long second of painful silence she disengages herself from Clarke’s hold. Lexa’s voice is harsher than she intends it to be when she responds, refusing to meet Clarke’s eyes as she shoots out bluntly “I have a prior engagement Clarke, that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry I didn't tell you before coming but we couldn’t see each other over the weekend and I thought dinner together would be nice.” 

Clarke’s eyebrows raise at the dismissive bite in Lexa’s tone and even though she doesn't meet Lexa’s abrasion with her own, her tone is decidedly cool as she holds up her hands and says “Chill, Lexa. It's fine… dinner was great. We were busy this week, I missed you a little and I’m really happy you stopped by. Look, I just wasn't expecting you to leave so soon, ok? I’m not mad, or complaining, I’m just explaining why I was surprised. You have to go, I get it. It’s ok.”

Lexa’s face gets tenser with every word that comes out of her mouth. Green eyes shine with anxiety and Clarke notices the slight bob of her throat as she swallows a gulp before turning to get her coat. 

Thedoctor is desperately trying not to look as hurt as she feels as she watches the brunette gather her things and the silence that hangs between them is tense and loaded. Lexa gathers her stuff at a snails pace, as white teeth worry her plump lower lip she knows she overreacted and her brain is trying to desperately think of a way to fix the situation before she has to leave.

Apologising has never been Lexa’s strong point but she knows she needs to swallow her pride and suck it up; because no matter what, she shouldn't have spoken to Clarke like that.Decided, it is with a shaky breath that Lexa takes a step forward and captures Clarke’s hand loosely in her own, lifting it to her lips and placing a gentle kiss against her knuckles as she mumbles guiltily “I’m sorry for snapping. And.. well…I missed you too.”

Clarke sighs but she is hard pressed to stay angry when earnest green eyes are beseeching her and her own feelings are clouding her judgement. After a second of hesitation Clarke squeezes Lexa’s hand back as she husks “It's ok.” Lexa exhales a breath of relief but her shoulders remain tense as her eyes scan Clarke’s face anxiously. 

Another minute passes until Lexa’s phone chirps and she curses, before muttering worriedly “I’m sorry but I really do have to go Clarke…”

Clarke shrugs it off with a feeble smile, rubbing the other woman’s arm to reassure her as she says “It’s fine, Lex, really. Text me tomorrow morning and maybe we can meet for coffee? I have the afternoon shift.”

Reluctantly stepping back, Lexa agrees with a single nod and slips on her coat. Clarke can’t bear the worried, tight look on Lexa’s face so tilts her head up to give her a kiss on the cheek before leading her out. 

Lexa remains quiet all the way, hesitating at the door before she steps into the chilly night air. Clarke watches Lexa go through her process, staring at her feet before standing rigid straight and locking eyes with Clarke. Her voice is clear and sincere as she says again “I really am sorry Clarke.”

Clarke smiles, her apology fully accepted and nods gently “I know Lexa. It’s ok. really. I’ll see you tomorrow? “

At last a little bit of light filters back into Lexa’s eyes as she mutters back “See you tomorrow morning. Goodnight, Clarke.”

Clarke watches Lexa walk down the street until she rounds the corner and then she shuts the door slowly. Even though Lexa has apologised and Clarke has accepted it; the reality that Lexa is hiding something and is becoming clearer than ever and so is the fact that Clarke hasn’t even got the right to ask; why?

 

XXX

 

Lexa leaves Clarke’s house feeling like shit. While it is true that Lexa has not lied about certain aspects of her life, she knows lies by omission are bad as barefaced lies themselves and curses herself for being so ill prepared. After all, Clarke was bound to get curious sooner or later and Lexa was going to have to make some difficult decisions. 

Distraught and tense, Lexa blows out a frustrated breath as she steps into a taxi and grit's her teeth in silence, ruminating all the way back to Camden. 

When she arrives twenty five minutes later Lexa is more irritated than ever. With impatient hands and fumbling fingers she swings open the door and strides through, ignoring her cat’s pitiful mewl for attention as she stomps straight to her wardrobe.

 With a weary sigh Lexa reaches up and pulls one of her dark and forbidding corseted playsuits from the rack. She examines it a second, deeming it appropriate and then bends down to scoop up a pair of thigh high leather boots.

Outfit chosen, that Lexa fights herself into the tight playsuit with a series of miserable grunts, shifting uncomfortably as the rough fabric of the corset grates against her skin. Next to slide on are silk stockings and then her boots, lifted by a painfully high stiletto. 

Lexa then slicks her hair back into a tight and severe looking bun and then marks her green eyes with a dramatic and flared liner. The final touch is a dash of matte ruby red to the lips and her she is done. The only thing left to do now is to select her tools of the evening. 

With a glance at the clock, Lexa clicks open her case; reviewing her options before discarding several lighter utensils and then adds a thick and heavy flogging belt along with an assortment of clamps. Flogging or whipping is not one of the services Lexa provides on a regular basis but it is something _she will do_ for an exorbitant fee and this particular client requests it every time. 

Everything in order; Lexa straightens up and regards herself in the mirror. The brunette looks the part, now all that is left is to act it. Lexa closes her eyes and feels the Commander bleed into place;impatient to get the job done and to lodge her chèque. 

 

XXX

 

Thirty minutes later The Commander pulls up to the familiar, expensive high rise apartments, trying to get herself in the mindset for the night ahead. Tonight she is just not feeling it and it doesn't help that Lexa genuinely doesn't like the guy.

There is something about him, about his feeble little smile, about that unimposing stature and the utter coldness in his eyes. There is something unsettling about him, something that puts Lexa on edge…but he is a job, and a well paying one and at the end of the day thats all that matters.

As usual Lexa strides straight past the door-man and into the elevator, typing the code for the penthouse floor. Two minutes later the doors open with a ping directly into the large sprawling living room of the millionaires penthouse. The Commander steps out, her stilettos clicking authoritatively on the mahogany floors as she makes her way over to the coffee table to set down her heavy case. She unbuttons her coat slowly; she is in no real rush. 

The Commander knows that Dante Wallace is sitting, waiting in position as always and she is more than inclined to keep him waiting. After all, why not waste valuable minutes while seeming like she is letting the anticipation build a little? It’s all part of the game that the man is paying to play, so taking her time The Commander clicks open the case and after a moment of indecision opts for the thick, long and flexible whip. The sooner The Commander gets this part over with, the better. 

Lexa is closing her eyes and steeling herself for the hour ahead when she hears; a light and unexpected dry cough from a few feet behind her, catching her off guard and startling her badly. The Commander’s facade slips as she wheels around, bringing Lexa face to face with a fair haired man she has never seen before.

He is of average height, youngish and handsome enough, well dressed in tailored, expensive clothes and stands staring at her with a curl to his lip and cold, pale eyes. 

It takes Lexa a moment to gather herself as panic starts to mount from deep within her stomach. The stranger offers no explanation, nor does he question her presence. In fact, his smug predatory expression and the way his eyes drag over her body leads Lexa to believe he has been expecting her arrival.

Lexa is both frightened and wary but she is unwilling to appear as perturbed as she is. Instead Lexa crosses her arms, drawing herself up to her full height with whip still clutched in hand and demands “Who are you? Where is Mr. Wallace?”

The man doesn't answer but lets out a gruff sound of amusement that tapers as a set of muffled footsteps approach from down the hallway. 

Lexa remains stock still, eyes on the intruder as Dante Wallace rounds the corner dressed in a red silk robe, wearing an affable smile on his paunchy face. He throws his hands open dramatically in greeting as he exclaims “Ah Commander! On time as always I see. I’m so glad you could join us!” The younger man watches the interaction with a wicked smirk on his lips that only grows as Dante Wallace continues “Let me introduce you to my business associate, Carl Emerson.” 

Lexa is not stupid; there is something terribly off about this whole situation. It is obvious that Dante Wallace is the orchestrater of this charade, grinning with delight as watery grey eyes flicker between the two younger figures and Lexa’s only worry now how she can get out of this.

Lexa’s jaw sets, dark green eyes glower at the men and the woman hisses “What is the meaning of this? Did you call me here just to waste my time?”

Emerson laughs at Lexa’s demand, his smirk growing as he says “You were right. This woman is really something else.”

Dante Wallace chuckles as he begins to cross the room, his beady eyes glittering as he speaks “Well… I know that this is unexpected but our meeting ran late. And I thought, since Emerson is already here that perhaps he could join us… I have told him a lot about you.” 

Lexa’s lips curls in disgust as she lifts her chin and begins to stride forward to take her things, willing her hands not to shake as she shoots back out a curt “Absolutely not, Mr Wallace. The session is cancelled and I am leaving, now.” 

As Lexa reaches for her coat Emerson moves forward and cuts her off, placing himself directly in front of her things.

“Shit” is what Lexa thinks to herself as she stops her advance, glancing between the men she notes Wallace’s nasty smile as he snarls “You are a _prostitute_ that has been hired by _me._ You leave when I _dismiss_ you, and not a minute before.”

Lexa says nothing, trying to assess the situation as her heart hammers. Her green eyes flicker between the two leering men and she decides to abandon the stuff and slowly starts to back towards the elevator, not daring to take her eyes off the men for a second; determined to get out of here one way or another. 

With each step back Lexa takes the men take one forward; each enjoying her discomfort as her back hits cold metal and she blindly jabs the elevator button.  When the metal box doesn't open immediately Lexa curses internally, realising that it must have been recalled downstairs, leaving her trapped.

The men continue to make their steady advance and Lexa weighs up her options; one on one she has no doubt she could take either of one them… but together and in such limited space it would be a mistake for Lexa to try to take the offence. While she still has the whip in hand but the men are to close for it to be effective… so she decides to wait for one of them to make their first move, and then she will have her opening. 

It happens a second later when Emerson reaches a out hand and Lexa jerks back from his grip, snarling a fierce “ Touch me and you will regret it, asshole.” 

With a short laugh Emerson and leans forward again to grab her and it's exactly what Lexa is waiting for. Lexa moves fast, dodging and ducking under his arm before coming up behind him, pulling the whip between her two hands as she loops it about his neck and pulls tight. His shout of surprise is cut short into a strangled gargle as Lexa locks her jaw and pulls with all of her strength, garrotting the man tight. Emerson tries to toss her off but Lexa has the whip pulled crushingly tight against his windpipe and every jerk of his body causes more damage, limiting his struggle. Emerson gasps and wheezes in her grasp, his fingers scrabbling for a grip between the skin of his neck and the bite of the leather but Lexa doesn't let up on the pressure…she can’t. 

Dante Wallace watches them stunned for a moment, his lecherous grin is long gone and replaced by an unsure snarl as he watches his business associate turn a violent purple. “Let him go” he demands, taking a step forward until Lexa snarls and pulls the whip tighter, arms trembling with the effort of keeping the struggling man contained. “Not… until… you … move.. away…from the fucking lift.” She grunts out through gritted teeth.

Lexa can guess how both men had thought this would play out and she would rather kill the guy in her arms than risk letting either of them lay a finger on her.  Behind Lexa can hear the humming of the elevator and knows it's on it's way back up… if she can just keep her grip a little longer, she might just get out of this. 

Wallace snarls, eyes darting between Emerson who is blue faced and beginning to sag and then to the cold, hard eyes of the woman behind him. 

Though Lexa holds Emerson captive, she is still cornered; blocked from the lift by Wallace and left with limit space between Emerson and the wall behind her.Lexa knows that if Wallace lunges and she will have to let go of Emerson to tackle him but if she lets him go, the younger man will quickly come to and then Lexa wont stand a chance… and Wallace knows it.

Lexa sees Wallace’s body tense just before he launches forward and she doesn't hesitate. Lexa jerks the captured man in her hold roughly to the side and kicks him hard on the side of the knee, hearing a satisfying crack that is immediately drowned out by an agonised shriek as Emerson drops to the floor blocking Wallace’s path. The younger man screams in pain and it buys Lexa valuable seconds as Wallace struggles to process what has happened before lunging at her again, fist raised and with a vicious snarl on his face. 

Lexa just manages to sidestep Wallace in the narrow space and then uses his own momentum against him, pushing him forward and sending him hurtling head first into a coffee table. Wallace falls and crashes hard into the table with an angry howl and Lexa turns and runs. She rushes to the elevator, pushing the button desperately; begging it to open. 

3 seconds later the doors slide open and Lexa almost falls into the box with a relieved sob, jabbing the “close” button with frantic curses until something cold and hard hit's her hard on the temple. A white hot pain sears through her skull as her brow gashes open, spilling hot blood down her face. 

Lexa falls to the side unsteadily; disorientated from the searing pain she lifts her face in time to see the elevator doors close just as Wallace lifts himself from the floor and hurls himself towards the box. Lexa’s heart is in her mouth as she holds down the door close button, praying that the the lift will begin to move as the violent curses and heavy bangs shake the box as Wallace hurls himself at the doors again and again. Lexa almost passes out in relief when after what feels like an eternity the elevator jerks into life and begins to descend. Only then does Lexa raise a hand to staunch the blood that spatters the elevator as she struggles to catch her breath and try to steady her erratic heartbeat.

A minute later Lexa is composed and standing; and ready to make a break for it. Lexa is sure that Wallace isn't planning to let her away that easy and has no doubt that the man is hurling himself down flight after flight of stairs in a bid to catch her; or has called building security to seize her.

The second the doors open in the lobby Lexa runs forward as fast as she as can in her stiletto boots, ignoring the shouts of the door-man behind her as shoves past him and barrels out into the street. Lexa doesn't look back but instead sprints as far and fast as she can, ignoring the pounding in her head as she battles to cover as much ground as possible. 

After 15 minutes of flat out running Lexa slows to a stop and then realises she has no idea where she is. She has dodged and barrelled down side streets, cut through gardens, her only thought being avoiding Wallace or whoever he was sure to have sent after her. 

Now however, she finds herself coatless in sub-zero temperatures, dressed in little more than lingerie, lightheaded and weak from both shock and blood loss with absolutely no idea where she is. 

Casting her gaze wildly around, Lexa spots an approaching yellow light in the misty night air and runs forward to toss a hand out . A taxi pulls up and its window rolls down revealing an old, tired and unhappy looking driver. Lexa squints into the darkened cab and shakily shoots off her dress in Camden. A moment passes in silence as the driver takes in the blood and clothing before he shaking his head and muttering a gruff “Sorry, no can do.” 

Just as the window begins to roll up, Lexa puts her hand on the sliding glass and stops it’s ascent. Her voice is little more than a whisper as she pleads “Please. _Please_ … I… I just need to get home.” 

The taxi driver sighs, his conscience no doubt battling with the sight of the coatless, bloodied, pale and dishevelled woman, shivering from the cold. The driver thinks it over a second more before sighing and unlocking then cab, muttering to her to get in before he changes his mind.  
  
Lexa smothers the sob of relief rise in her chest as with a click the door unlocks and she can shakily slip inside. It is only when inside the warmth of the cab that Lexa realises how truly cold she is; her hands are almost blue and shake violently while her brain is sluggish, made slow from pain and exhaustion.

She closes her eyes as she leans back and weighs up her current situation. Lexa has a problem; she has no coat, no money and no keys. Both the cash and keys were stashed in her case which she left behind at Wallace’s apartment, along with her coat and possibly her phone. 

Her phone; its loss would be the hardest blow for Lexa has no doubt that Wallace could hire someone who could hack it with little difficulty and then Lexa’s identity, her private life, her contacts and messages would be laid open to a man like Dante Wallace.

Her panic rises until she feels the hard outline of the device that she had previously stashed in her brassiere, that thankfully hadn’t fallen out during the struggle. With fumbling, cold fingers Lexa tugs it out and shakily types Anya’s number, numbly waiting for it to connect.

Three calls straight to voicemail later the exhausted brunette is about to give up when finally the ringing stops and a harsh voice cuts across the line. “Lexa, what?”

She can’t find her voice for a minute, struggling to verbalise what happened, what she feels and what she needs. A few fruitless demands from Anya later, Lexa finally manages to speak even though when she does, her voice is little more than a broken rasp“An… I need you. Can… can you meet me at mine?I’ll need cash.”

Anya shoots straight back Anya’s response is instant “Im on my way. I’ll be there in 15.” No questions, no demands and Lexa is reminded of one of the many reasons she loves the woman.

With a shaky breath of relief, Lexa drags the phone from her face and cuts the call. Exhaustion sets in as deep in her bones as the Taxi sloshes through London’s streets and Lexa asks herself; “What happens now?”

 

XXX 

 

15 minutes later Anya is waiting in front of her shabby apartment building with her coat collar high and chin bent low against the bitter cold. 

As soon as the Taxi rolls to a stop Anya rushes forward and hauls open the door, her dark almond eyes scanning Lexa frantically as she thrusts a fistful of notes towards the driver. Without a seconds hesitation Anya pulls off her coat and drapes it about Lexa's shoulders before half lifting, half supporting the exhausted woman from the cab.  It's only when Lexa is out of the dark cab and standing in front of Anya that the other woman can see Lexa’s injuries in the dim lamplight. 

Dark eyes are wild as she takes in the blood that streaks the white, almost blue skin underneath. Lexa allows her turn her head this way and that, submitting to the touch as Anya assesses the full extent of Lexa’s injuries under the dried blood. 

The last of Lexa’s strength ebbs as her body quakes and her teeth chatter uncontrollably, aggravating the pain radiates through her skull. She is so cold and even the rapid rubbing of Anya’s hands is doing nothing to warm her.“Lexa? Lexa… what the fuck happened? Give me your keys. We need to get you warm!”

Lexa’s teeth are chattering so hard that takes a few stuttered tries before Anya finally understands what she is saying “N… no kkkeys…..l…llleffft b..bbehind. Sp…spare inside hhallway. D…dunno ..h..how to g…get in.”

With a grunt of frustration Anya turns and abruptly strides to the door, lifting a foot to aim a square kick to the rickety entrance. Lexa watches in weary silence as Anya kicks again and again until something finally gives with a grating groan the door can be shoved open. Anya supports Lexa through the door and up the narrow stairs, retrieving Lexa’s spare key from her hiding place and opens Lexa’s apartment door. Anya leads Lexa to the battered leather sofa before running to the bedroom and reappearing seconds later with blankets and a duvet which she wraps around the younger woman.

When Anya is satisfied that Lexa is sufficiently bundled she turns on her heel, strides from the apartment and descends the stairs to the now broken building entrance. After several loud bangs Lexa assumes that Anya has somehow managed to jam the entry door shut, swiftly followed by rapid footsteps as the older woman makes her way back up tothe apartment. 

Anya then walks straight into the kitchen; returning a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea, a basin filled with warm water and a small pile of rags. She passes the cup to Lexa, who still shivers but begins to feel a tingle of warmth beginning to spread inwards from her fingertips and toes.

Anya has not said a word since asking Lexa for her keys and still keeps her silence as she leans in to examine the gash on Lexa's right eyebrow. With a heavy sigh she finally dips the cotton in water and gently begins to wash off the dried blood around the wound. The pain in Lexa’s brow pulses stronger with each dab but she grit's her teeth and ignores the discomfort as Anya works.

When the wound is clean Anya starts on Lexa’s hands, neck and face; wiping away the dried flecks of crimson with firm but tender swipes of the cloth. It is only when Lexa is clean and her tea almost finished that Anya sit's back and looks Lexa dead in the eye, her eyes worried, dark and dangerous as she skips all preamble “Lexa. Tell me what happened. Did a client do this?”

Lexa exhales a shaky breath and nods, finding her throat tight and dry. Anya inhales a deep breath and pauses for almost a full minute before she growls her next question “Who was it?” 

Lexa hesitates a moment as green eyes survey the oder woman. Lexa studies the mutinous eyes an the set of Anya’s face and shoulders. She knows that Anya will not let this go and so with a resigned sigh she croaks “Dante Wallace… and this other guy. Emerson, I think his name was.”

Anya swallows before tentatively asking her next question. “Did they…”

Lexa closes her eyes quickly and cuts her off “No… I got out. I broke the younger guys knee… not sure what the older guy is dealing with.” 

Lexa points to her eyebrow and continues “Got this on the way out. Was in the lift when Wallace threw an ashtray or something at me. I left my all stuff… my coat and my keys behind but I have nothing in them that would give my identity away. Everything is fine An… I just want to forget about it now.”

Anya nods slowly, absorbing her words before she responds “Lex… Let me call Lincoln. He can hecan deliver a _message_ for you and collect your stuff. The fucker shouldn't get away with this. ”

Lexa’s reply is harsh and instant“Jesus no, Anya! Fuck the stuff. Dante Wallace is a powerful man… he has contacts all over this city. The guy is dangerous, rich and powerful and it’s not worth the risk for you, me or Lincoln to try to teach the bastard a lesson. You need to let this go. Promise me.” 

After a minute of bitter grumbling and a stern stare from Lexa, Anya mumbles reluctantly “Fine. But I’m at least gonna get the guy blacklisted on the scene.”

Lexa leans back, exhausted and unwilling to discuss it any longer. “Fine… but keep it quiet.”

Anya rolls her eyes and then frowns as she studies the gash on Lexa’s eyebrow. “Lex… you need stitches.”

Refusing to open her eyes Lexa mumbles “No, I don’t.” 

Lexa is already on the cusp of sleep, eager to slip into oblivion for a couple of hours but is abruptly woken from her dozing when Anya punches her hard in the arm.Green eyes flash open in annoyance and she sits up to slap back, but her hand slices through thin air as Anya grins roguishly and leans back out of reach. 

“Yes. You. do.. or it will scar. Badly. Look.”

When Anya passes Lexa the mirror and she raises it to examine the small but deep gash that sit's open above her left eyebrow.

Lexa had thought it would be bigger given how painful it is but though it is no more than an inch in length the flesh is sliced deeply and the gash gapes, stinging in the air. 

Anya is right. There is no way around it, she needs stitches but even then idea of waiting hours in the emergency room makes her want to cry. Lexa is just so _tired_. 

That being said, the only other possible option is one Lexa likes even less… especially at 2am on a Tuesday morning. 

Anya tosses her phone on the other woman lap, looking her dead in the eye as she commands “Call her. Or I will.” Lexa know’s Anya well enough to know she is not bluffing and is too weak and too weary to argue. 

When Lexa glances down at the phone in her lap her attention is drawn to the the bloody playsuit she is wearing. Then she thinks about the wardrobe full of outfits, toys and utensils that lay strewn about her room, unhidden. Lexa hasn't invited Clarke to hers yet, but mainly because it was so far from where Clarke worked. When she did come over Lexa had planned to just box up her stuff, like she did with Aden but she is too tired to do it now. She cant have Clarke come over, and find out like this. That being said, Clarke coming here is Lexa’s only alternative option to a night in the emergency room. 

A second passes before Lexa crosses her arms and makes up her mind “Fine, I’ll call her. _But_ you're helping me change out of this outfit _and_ hiding all my shit.” 

Anya glares and rolls her eyes but acquiesces with a gruff “Fine.”

Lexa hit's dial and wait's anxiously for the call to connect, half-hoping that Clarke won’t answer at all. 

 

XXX

 

A harsh buzzing stirs Clarke from her slumber and with a woeful groanshe reaches a hand under her pillow and pulls out the offending gadget. Clarke’s eyes struggle to adjust as she blinks blearily against the harsh light of the device, reading the name flashing across the screen. Clarke almost fumbles in her haste to answer she she swipes left and croaks into the phone “Lexa?”

Clarke squints at her alarm clock, reading 1:45 am as Lexa babbles her apologies down the line “Clarke… I’m so sorry for waking you up… it's just… I’ve had an accident and need some stitches.” The first thing she notes is that Lexa’s voice is not it's usual lilting drawl; instead it is flat and raspy and she sounds exhausted as she speaks. 

Clarke sit's up in the bed in an instant, all tiredness vanishing from her voice as worry takes it's place. “An accident? Are you ok?”

Lexa tries to sound reassuring but her voice sounds empty as she tries to laugh it off. “Yes, Im fine….. I just slipped down some steps, knocked my head. I _could_ go to the hospital… but the wait…” 

Lexa keeps talking but Clarke is already out of bed and pulling on a pair of jeans as she cuts across the brunette’s rambling “Lex it’s fine… I’m on my way, just text me the address.” 

Clarke hears the relieved thanks at the end of the line before cutting the call as she jogs into the bathroom. She takes a second quickly brush her teeth as she pulls out her first aid kit from her cupboard. Clarke doesn't bother dressing, keeping her tracksuit bottoms she was sleeping in on and then pulling on a hoodie and coat as she shucks on a pair of shoes. Dressed and first-aid kit in hand, Clarke rushes out the door to her car; throwing herself into it before speeding far too fast through the streets of London as she directs herself to Camden town.  
  
Twenty five minutes later Clarke pulls up in front of a narrow building and graffiti-marked building. Clarke pulls to an abrupt stop before scrabbling from the car with first aid kit in hand, hitting call as she strides towards the door. Just as the call connects, the dark door is tugged open with some difficulty; revealing an extremely beautiful but severe looking woman who holds Lexa’s phone in hand. Almond eyes scrutinise her a second before the woman beckons her in and wordlessly leads the way up a rickety flight of stairs.

Clarke blinks but follows her without question up the narrow stairs and onto a landing, where an apartment door sits ajar. A soft light filters through the crack and despite how worried Clarke is about Lexa, she cannot help butwonder who this beautiful woman is and how she knows the girl Clarke is seeing. The stranger certainly knows her way around; leading Clarke through the small yet immaculate apartment into a the sitting room where the vague form of a person is hidden under a mass of blankets, laid out on a large sofa. 

The mass’ breathing remains steady until the taller blonde woman strides over and shakes the person under the covers awake without any preamble or delicacy at all. 

 “Hey. Lex… hey. Wake up. She’s here.”

The figure under the blankets stirs and a moment later Lexa emerges, blearily blinking the sleep away from her pale face as she pushes herself into a sitting position. When she sees Clarke a small but tired smile quirks the corner of her mouth as she self-consciously runs a hand through brown curls, trying to impose some sort of order to the unruly hair.

Immediately Clarke’s eyes zone on the inflamed and bruised skin, marked by a deep gash that lies along the upper edge of Lexa’s left eyebrow. Lexa sit's up further, wincing a little as she moves and the doctor fights the instinct to move forward and touch the girl, to comfort her. The severe looking Asian woman glowers at Lexa with an unreadable look on her face and Clarke feels completely unsure of her boundaries. 

 She relaxes infinitesimally as Lexa smiles and pats a small space beside her on the sofa, beckoning her forward as she begins to make introductions “Clarke… thank you so much for coming. This is Anya by the way, my best friend despite the fact she is eternally insufferable.”

Clarke feels a brief flicker of relief with the clarification before instantly berating herself for being so childish. There are bigger things to worry about tonight and after all it was never explicitly said that she and Lexa were exclusive, no matter how much it felt like they were.

Anya turns her attention to Clarke, nodding in acknowledgement and Clarke pauses in her advance to the sofa to extend a hand, offering the typical greeting “Hi, I’m Clarke.” 

Anya drops her almond eyes to the extended appendage as if it is an alien object before they flicker back up to Clarke, sculpted eyebrow raised. Anya evidently decides to ignore the hand hovering between them, shooting back an offhand“I know.” 

Then Anya side steps and strides past the blonde to retrieve her jacket, leaving Clarke to awkwardly lower her hand and stare confusedly after the other woman. Lexa scolds from her place of the sofa “Be nice, Anya.”

The asian woman scowls briefly at the brunette before snarking back “This _is_ me nice. Now, will you be ok? Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Lexa rolls her eyes and waves her off “An, I _told_ you, I’m fine. A couple of stitches and I’ll be grand, it barely hurts anymore. You should go home, it's late.” 

Anya nods and says no more, collecting her keys and grumbling a gruff goodbye before she marches out the door.

Clarke blinks after her for a second before she turns her attention to the woman sitting on the sofa. Lexa watches her, a soft smile on her face as she jokes “Bundle of sunshine, isn't she?”

Clarke chuckles lightly as she settles down beside Lexa on the sofa, placing her first aid kit on the small table and inching the lamp closer as she teases “Such a charmer. I can see why you two make such good friends.” 

Lexa smiles tiredly as the doctor reaches into the case and tugs on a pair of plastic gloves, beckoning Lexa to come closer to the light. Lexa shifts forward and allows Clarke to lean in to get a closer look at her wound which she examines with a concentrated frown, her gentle fingers probing the brow bone to check for fractures. Lexa winces every now and then but tries to keep still until Clarke, finally satisfied leans back and selects things from within her first aid kit. Lexa seizes the opportunity to study the blonde in her element; watching her move with assurance, confidence and efficiency as she selects a gel, some gauze and a needle and thread that drops into a sterilising solution before rounding on Lexa with a small white light. 

It is then that Lexa Woods is confronted with Doctor Griffin in all her glory. Quick hands shine the light in her eyes, swift fingers swoop down to check her pulse and all the while Lexa is assaulted with a barrage of questions; “Is she light headed? Can she remember what she did in the last twelve hours? Does she know what date is is? Is she nauseous? When was the last time she ate?” 

Lexa tires to answer all the questions as quickly as Clarke shoots them at her but she is fascinated by the deft movements of Clarke's hands as she picks up her needle and forceps, threading the thin needle with practised ease. 

When Clarke is at last satisfied that Lexa is not concussed she sit's forward and applies the numbing gel with gentle fingers to the cut, tutting disapprovingly as Lexa squirms and hisses in discomfort. Gel applied, Lexa is informed that it will take five minutes to take effect and Clarke leans back, and surveys not just the injury, but the woman herself; Lexa looks exhausted, pale and something else that Clarke can’t quite identify. 

A frown furrows blonde brows until a cold and slender hand slides over the covers and seizes hers, and Clarke glances up to see catch Lexa’s gaze before green eyes drop to her lap and she quietly mumbles “Thank you for coming, Clarke.” 

It’s heartbreaking in so many ways and for so many reasons. The main one being that Lexa, a woman usually so self assured sit's bundled on the sofa in an over-sized jumper, her hair a mass of messy curls and actually thinks she has to thank Clarke for something the doctor considered basic human decency.

Clarke squeezes the cold hand in her own before ducking down and searching for Lexa’s gaze, responding vehemently, needing to make her understand that of course she is here, that she will always be here “Lexa… of course I came.”

Lexa says nothing but she holds Clarke’s hand tighter and shoots her a grateful smile until Clarke sits up and says “Lets see for how much longer be thanking me when I get to work on these stitches, Lex.”

Lexa lets out a soft huff of amusement and raises Clarke’s hand to press a firm kiss on the back of it. Clarke smiles warmly and leans in to place a quick peck on Lexa’s cheek before leaning forward to take the needle in hand, shooting Lexa an apologetic look as she she places it against torn skin. “Full disclosure. Even with the gel… this is not gonna be comfortable.”

Lexa grit's her teeth, muttering a curt “It’s fine” and Clarke sets to work. Though the cut is not particularly long, it is deep and Clarke opts for a difficult but effective suturing technique that while time consuming, minimises scarring. Lexa sit's in silence, wincing occasionally but tries to focus solely on the husky tune that Clarke is humming under her breath. 

A painful twenty-five minutes later Clarke leans back and surveys her work, satisfied that the end result will leave little or no visible scar. All that is left is to irrigate the stitched skin and finally finished then doctor pulls off her gloves and lets out a weary sigh, leaning back gratefully on the sofa. She turns a tired head to look at Lexa who gazes at her from her mass of blankets; she is still pale but is obviously more comfortable now the wound no longer sits open. 

Clarke hesitates a second before asking “So Woods… that was one hell of a fall.How did it happen?”

Lexa immediately stiffens beside her; her face becoming blank and stoic as her green eyes flicker away from blue. It takes a couple of seconds for her to respond, but when she does it is stiff and flat “I slipped on the stairs in the hall… came down hard and knocked by head off the wall. I’m clumsy. Shit like this happens all the time.” 

The first thought that crosses Clark’s mind is; “What complete and utter bullshit.” Clarke had examined the wound thoroughly, and the doctor knows that kind of cut is not something you get from hitting your head head off a wall.

Clarke’s second thought is; Lexa is lying, but the question is; why? 

It wouldn't be the first time that it has crossed Clarke’s mind that Lexa could be involved in some sort of trouble. It would explain a lot; the weird hours, the cageyness about what she does where she goes. Maybe she is wrong but Clarke knows this much; Lexa’s injury linked to wherever Lexa went tonight, and someone did it to her. 

If Lexa is in trouble Clarke wants to help but she can’t if Lexa keeps shutting her out. She has been patient, she has been respectful of Lexa’s privacy but it's about time she got some freaking answers. 

It _is_ time for answers… but not tonight. 

Clarke can see how Lexa’s eyes battle to stay open as she stifles a yawn and Clarke knows it isn’t the time to bring it up.  Tomorrow, Clarke tells herself. No matter what…. she will get some answers tomorrow. 

With a resigned and weary sigh Clarke sits forward and begins to repack her first aid kit, trying to sound normal as she says “It’s late… you should get to bed, Lexa and I should get going.”

Clarke turns to look at Lexa who’s tired eyes are now alert and stormy as they meet Clarke’s. Lexa looks troubled, uncertain and small as she watches Clarke pack the last of her things and close her case with a resolute click. The silence hangs tense between them until Lexa’s takes a deep breath and tentatively suggests “I… I thought… Well. You could stay here? If you want. I mean it's really late…. and we haven't got to see each other much lately and… well… I’d like you to stay… if you want to, that is. We could get breakfast together tomorrow morning?”

Clarke hesitates, hands on her case because she knows Lexa has lied to her more than once tonight. That being said, Clarke can’t bring herself to leave her alone, especially when Lexa’s eyes are pleading with her to stay. 

Clarke tries to shift the heaviness in her heart and responds as lightly as she can “Okay, I’ll stay. It is really late and that way I check your stitches first thing in the morning.”

Lexa’s relief is obvious because the green eyes flutter and a relieved smile lights up her face asdigs her way out of the blankets and stands slowly, stretching slightly before joining Clarke’s side. Lexa picks up her duvet and pads her way down the hall, beckoning Clarke to follow behind her.

Lexa opens the bedroom door and holds it open for Clarke who passes through. The room is large in comparison to the rest of the flat; almost the same size as the entire living room. It’s entirely Lexa, details kept to the bare minimum, the colours are a soft creme and taupe. In the centre is a large and ornate wooden bed, covered with a rich dark green throw and piled with pillows. The wall opposite is lined with shelves crammed with books, and the only other furniture in the room is a large wardrobe, a small chest of drawers, and a neat vanity table. On almost every flat surface, there are candles, unlit that sit scattered around the room. Clarke examines all this while Lexa digs in the chest of drawers for a second and pulls out a pair of pyjamas and tosses them to Clarke, who kicks off her heavy tracksuit bottoms and tugs on the lighter pyjamas, opting to keep her hoodie. 

Clarke stares as Lexa pulls back the covers and her brow furrows in confusion when Clarke doesn't slide in. 

Realisation dawns on Lexa in a second, turning her a violent shade of pink as she stutters “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to assume… I mean…would you, would you rather sleep on the sofa?” 

Clarke blinks and shrugs it off with a smile, slipping into the bed and waving off the brunettes stuttered apologies. “Of course not, don’t mind me… I’m just tired. Come here.” 

Lexa hesitates before slipping in and lying down stiffly next to Clarke, leaving a good half foot between them. Clarke analyses the myriad of emotions she is feeling and decides that as confused, hurt and wary she might be, now is not the the time to put up her defences. 

Something happened Lexa tonight, and no matter what, why, or how it happened; Lexa is hurt. No matter how upset Clarke is, she is able to recognise that Lexa didn't invite her to stay for practicalities sake. It is obvious that Lexa didn't want to be alone tonight and Clarke will put her feelings aside because Lexa needs this, she needs her to be there for her.

On the other side of the bed Lexa stares tensely up at the ceiling for a long minute before rolling onto her side to face the wall. After a moment Clarke puts her feelings aside and shifts into the vacant space in the middle of the bed and towards Lexa’s warmth. Slowly she lets her hand creep over the short distance between them and up and over Lexa’s waist. 

Clarke physically feels Lexa draw a deep breath and hold it for a second before letting it all out in one shuddering breath. A second passes before Lexa rolls over to lie face to face across from Clarke and slips her own arm around Clarke’s waist. Clarke tugs her close and Lexa relaxes in the embrace, her green eyes glittering in the darkness as her gaze locks on Clarke’s. They hold each other close in the darkness and Lexa leans in to close the gap; kissing Clarke for a long moment until she pulls away and whispers “Thank you for staying, Clarke.”

There is catch in Lexa’s voice and Clarke’s heart melts. She says nothing but kisses Lexa again and pulls closer, tucking Lexa’s face into into her neck, feeling the steady puff of her warm breath against the skin as she breathes. 

They stay like this, holding each other in the darkness until Clarke feels Lexa’s breathes become slower, shallower and she knows Lexa is fast asleep in her arms.

Clarke indulges herself for a minute, tracing the other woman's jawline in the dim. With a gentle touch she raises a hand to play with the curls at the nape of Lexa’s neck, smiling when Lexa almost purrs in her sleep. Clarke’s eyes itch with tiredness but she is determined to remember this moment exactly as it is; with Lexa soft and sleeping in her arms with nothing but a few inches space between them.

Well, at least until tomorrow. 


	5. The End Was Inevitable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, after the aftermath Lexa's run in with Dante Wallace culminates in a heated exchange- because Clarke wants answers and Lexa refuses to give them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Has been a while hasn't it!? All my fics are being worked on slowly but surely, however it takes a lot of time- which I am sorely lacking. 
> 
> I apologise in advance for the angst- but I'm an angsty asshole so there you go. 
> 
> To everyone still reading- thanks for sticking with me. For the newbies- give it a chance. 
> 
> Please leave your thoughts in the comments below, and as always you can find me on tumblr as yetanothereireannach.
> 
> ALSO PLEASE POINT OUT ANY MISTAKES I HAVE NO BETA AND MISS THINGS. 
> 
> Thanks pals. 
> 
> x

 

**The End Was Inevitable.**

 

 

Closed eyes squint defiantly against the sting of the light of the low hanging winter sun.  A brow furrows and then winces as the tug of tight stitches pull the tender wound across Lexa’s eyebrow, causing a sharp inhale of breath and green eyes to finally open. She notes the dull thud that pulses in her head before gingerly turning to look at the woman still sleeping beside her. Clarke lies flat on her belly, her long blonde hair hiding most of her face as she sleeps with her arms splayed and small snores spilling out from between parted lips.

 Despite Lexa’s physical discomfort she smiles the sleeping form beside her, wanting nothing more than to curl up beside her and slip into peaceful oblivion for another couple of hours… but unfortunately nature is calling, and she won’t be ignored.

 Lexa sits up, wincing painfully as the thudding in her head increases, and holding in a silent curse as she slips out of the bed.  She pads silently through her apartment to the bathroom, vaguely wondering why her whole body is aching even though she only took a shot to the head; every muscle aches, her head throbs and her eyebrow stings like a bitch.

 Lexa avoids looking in the mirror before she relieves herself, but it’s almost impossible to ignore the urge to glance up when she is at the sink, washing her hands. Green eyes flicker upwards and widen in surprise when they take in her face.

 Her pallor is as white as a sheet and the usually vibrant green eyes are dull and ringed with dark circles. There is a livid, sutured gash that slices diagonally across her right eyebrow and though the wound is enflamed, stitches pull the flesh neatly together and Lexa feels a rush of gratitude for Clarke and her skill.

 Memories from last night flash before her eyes in disorganised snippets; the frenzied fight for her freedom as the two men cornered her, and the smirks on their faces as they did. Memories of the younger man struggling in her arms and the strain of her muscles trying to keep him captive. She remembers how Wallace’s lip curled in a snarl as he hurled the ashtray at her, and the blinding pain when it connected with her skull. She recalls the flight through London; sprinting through back gardens and alleys, desperate to get as far away as she could before eventually stopping to hail a cab. Anya is almost a blur, as Lexa remembers her pulling her from the taxi, getting Lexa inside and gently washing away Lexa’s blood. She sees Clarke’s worried gaze as she diligently patched Lexa up, one stitch at a time.

 It was a damn bad night but Lexa knows she was lucky to have got out of the situation at all. Though her forehead might hurt, she knows that it’s a small price to pay compared to the horrible things those two men had planned. With a shudder, Lexa shrugs off the thought because she really hasn’t been awake enough to cope with the unpleasantness and she really needs a coffee.

She pads into the kitchen and sets the cafetière to brew, then sprinkles some kibbles into her cat’s empty food dish and changes her water. Lexa absently looks around for the animal; desiring the comfort of warm fur and the cats deep rumbling purrs but her calls go unanswered and she surmises that the cat must be out exploring the depths of London. With a small and disappointed sigh Lexa pours two cups of coffee before quietly returning to the bedroom.

 Lexa takes a breath before leaning in and peaking at the figure who sleeps deeply, nestled deep within Lexa’s blankets. Blonde hair is tousled and Clarkes lips are pursed as she exhales cute little snores. A smile tugs at Lexa’s lips and she lets herself enjoy the warm feeling blooming in her chest before she walks to Clarke’s side, sits and rubs soothing circles on her back. “Clarke” she tries softly, chuckling softly as the woman in the bed mumbles protestations at being woken. She tries again “Clarke, time to wake. I have coffee-“

At the mention of coffee blue eyes immediately fly open and Clarke offers Lexa a sleepy smile.

 Clarke’s eyes are tired and voice is hoarse when she mumbles “Morning.” Lexa feels guilty for having dragged the woman from her bed in the small hours of the morning, but extremely grateful that Clarke came. She proffers the cup filled with warm and milky coffee to the blonde who pushes the hair from her eyes and tries to sit up, and Lexa’s voice is warm when she murmurs “Good morning, Clarke. I made you coffee.”

 Clarke seizes the cup gratefully and mumbles her thanks, looking around Lexa’s bedroom in the light of the day. She clears her throat “What time is it?” she asks.

 “Almost one.”

 Clarke blinks rapidly in surprise and then leans to stow her cup on the nearby bedside locker “Wow. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so late. Thanks for letting me stay.”

 Lexa rushes to reassure the blonde, reaching for her hand and tracing soothing circles across the back of it as she insists “Not at all Clarke! It is me that should be thanking you. I really appreciate you coming to help me last night, and thank you for staying. I really am glad you did.”

 Clarke smiles gratefully and scoots closer to Lexa, but her blue eyes flick up and fix on the wound. Lexa witnesses Doctor Clarke bleed into place as smoothly as she imagines the Commander does. Her eyes clear and become focused as she examines the cut. Lexa follows her lead as she gently raises a hand and turns her head each side, prods the inflamed area and scrutinises the stitches. A few minutes later Clarke exhales a relieved breath and sits back, dropping her gaze to meet Lexa’s own curious one. “The cut looks clean with no sign of infection. I know you might think that it looks bad now Lex but hopefully in a couple of months the mark will be small enough and there shouldn’t be any major scarring. How does it feel?”

 Lexa quirks the corner of her mouth and quips dryly “Hurts.”

 Clarke scoffs, rolling her eyes fondly as she jokes back “Very informative, Lexa. You can take some Ibuprofen for the swelling, and some paracetamol for the pain, ok? I left an antiseptic gel on the table in the sitting room, you can keep it. Just keep it clean and dry for a couple of days.The stitches will dissolve themselves.”

 Lexa smiles again and stands from the bed, grabbing her dressing gown that hangs on the back of the bedroom door and slips it on while she speaks “That’s great. Thanks again, Clarke. What time do you need to be in work today? I need to feed you. Making you breakfast is the least I can do, after everything.”

 Clarke smiles a wide and happy smile and stretches luxuriously. Lexa can’t help but track the small band of skin that becomes exposed on her tummy as Clarke’s shirt rides up, causing the brunette to turn a bright shade of puce. Luckily, Clarke doesn’t seem to notice, too thrilled with the idea of food “Well, I never say no to a free breakfast, Lexa. I’m not in work until 5 so I have some time before I have to head home.”

 “Excellent.” Lexa replies, leading the blonde, wrapped heavily in blankets to the kitchen with her coffee cup clutched in hand. She indicates the small set of a table and chairs and says “Sit down there, Clarke. Breakfast is on its way.” Clarke happily flops herself down into a chair and sips her coffee, watching the brunette work.

 

XXX

Twenty minutes later breakfast is served; fluffy scrambled eggs with a side of bacon and some hearty brown toast sit tidily on a plate. Fresh orange juice and coffee are poured and both woman tuck in.

 Lexa chuckles as Clarke munches cheerfully and for a short time they eat in peace. However, as time goes on and Clarke begins to fully wake up Lexa can sense a shift in the atmosphere as Clarke eyes her curiously; her blue eyes alight with questions. Clarke opens her mouth once to speak but then shuts it, lowering her gaze to stare down at her plate of eggs indecisively. Lexa knows what is on the blondes mind but Lexa is ashamed to admit she just ignores the awkward stretch of silence; instead she takes a sup of orange juice and then a large bite of toast; heartily munching, desperate to fill the void with _something_.

 Lexa’s obnoxious munching does nothing to hide her discomfort from Clarke and eventually the doctor just decides to go for it, and say what’s on her mind. Clarke begins casually but notes how Lexa’s shoulders instantly tense when she says, “You know, we see all kinds of injuries at the hospital, Lexa.” All Clarke gets in response is a bland “I would imagine so, Clarke.” followed by Lexa taking another ridiculously large bite of toast.

 Clarke resists the urge to roll her eyes and powers though Lexa’s evident dismissal of the topic, her voice becoming a little firmer as she continues “Yeah. We see all kinds of shit Lexa… and that is how I know the cut on your eyebrow didn’t come from a fall.”

 The blonde states the end of it bluntly, her blonde eyebrow raised as Lexa’s unreadable gaze locks to her own. Both women are locked into a silent showdown of stares that seems to go on forever until Lexa breaks first. Her jaw is tight when she mutters a clipped response “I think I know what happened to me, Clarke.”

 There is a fierceness in Lexa’s eyes that warns Clarke to back off, she Clarke is so sick of walking on eggshells that she barrels on regardless, trying to keep her tone reassuring “Lexa, you know that you can talk to me, right? If you’re in some kind of trouble-“

 Clarke is cut off mid-sentence by the harsh screech of wood cutting across tile as Lexa stands abruptly from her chair. She plants hands on the table and her body language rigid, her eyes are hard and unyielding and her voice ice-cold as she states “Clarke, I appreciate your help last night. I truly do, but I fell and hit my head. That is all there is to it and I refuse to discuss it any further.”

 There is a flash of hurt in Clarkes eyes before the anger rushes in to take its place as she scoffs “Seriously… you call me at 3am to stitch up a head wound, that was obviously caused by someone beating you around the head with something and you “ _refuse to discuss it further_?” Are you fucking kidding me, Lexa?”

 Clarke stands too and then the women are facing off on opposite sides of the table. The blonde takes a deep breath before speaking, her voice gruff when she says “You know what? I can’t keep doing this if you aren’t going to be honest with me. Sometimes you’re so freaking _secretive_ \- it makes me feel like you’re hiding something. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me, or that I’m stupid to have trusted you! And I do, I _do_ trust you Lexa but every time I try to get to know you, every time I try _to be_ someone to you, you just _shut me out_.”

 Lexa can’t deny the sting of truth that comes with Clarke's words but refuses to show how much it hurts. Instead she raises her chin and stares Clarke down with an implacable glare as she almost snarls “My business is my own Clarke. Neither my private life nor affairs concern you.”

 Clarke’s mouth opens with indignation. Stormy blue eyes narrow as Clarke storms around the table, facing Lexa until they are toe to toe. Lexa meets her gaze unflinching, as Clarke’s eyes search for something she can’t find until she finds her voice and almost hisses “They don’t _concern me_? Jesus Lexa! What am I to you?!”

 Lexa presses her lips into a thin line as an internal battle wages within. She wants nothing more to reach out and take it back the words in the first place. She wants to apologise, to kiss Clarke and tell her _how much_ she means to her. She wants to tell the truth, to build the foundations of a relationship on a solid something instead of trying to hide. She wants to… but she can’t and there is no point trying to kid herself anymore.

 After a minute of no response forthcoming from Lexa, Clarke’s expression changes from angry, to stony, and then finally resigned. Her blonde head shakes disbelievingly and she almost laughs when she says “You don’t even know, do you?”

 Lexa looks away from accusing blue eyes, centring herself for what she knows must follow. A second later she meets Clarke’s stare again, and her words are flat and heavy “Clarke, I… I think perhaps starting this was a mistake.”

 There is a dullness in Clarke’s eyes when she sighs, looking away before murmuring softly “You know Lexa, I’ve been starting to think the same thing.”

Lexa sees tears well and be blinked away before Clarke turns and walks from the kitchen. She can only follow dumbly as she watches Clarke gather her things; her bag, her kit and her coat before she walks out of the apartment without so much as a glance back.

 The front door slams and so does Lexa’s heart; battering painfully hard against her ribcage. Lexa stares numbly at the old battered door for a long minute after Clarke is gone, wondering to herself how everything always seems to fall apart, so fast.

Tears bite at Lexa’s eyes and with no one around to see her cry, she lets them fall. They keep just keep coming as she walks in a daze towards the bathroom and gingerly peels of her clothes. She starts shower, stepping into the tepid stream of water and the water wash away her tears and drown out choked sobs.

When Lexa steps out of her shower after what feels like hours later, she is drained and exhausted. Her head pounds and all she wants is to slip under the still mussed covers of soft her bed and sleep until the ache in her heart subsides, but she knows that’s just not going to happen. It’s Wednesday and she was planning to visit Aden at school but Lexa can’t muster up the energy to pretend she is ok. She can’t pretend she is ok about anything; about last night, about Clarke… about why she can’t have an honest relationship with anyone she cares about.

Numbly she walks to the mirror to examines the wound on her brow and hisses when her fingers prod experimentally at the wound. It looks as bad as it feels and she knows Aden will be full of worry and questions that she just can’t handle today. Feeling shitty for doing it, but deciding it’s the only thing for it Lexa grabs her phone from her dressing gown pocket dials Indra’s number. Guilt nags at her as she waits for the call to connect and when Indra picks up the phone and Lexa keeps her story short and to the point. All she says is that she had an accident last night and is feeling rough. Her foster mother listens intently, knowing Lexa well enough to guess there is more than just a sore head troubling her. “Lexa… What is going on?”

On the other end of the line, Lexa exhales a shaky breath, unable to bring herself to lie to Indra of all people. The line is silent for a beat before Lexa finally responds in a rush “I… I’m grand, Indra. I’m just tried and head is just killing me. And…well, to be honest… Clarke and I are finished too, I suppose. I can’t say I’m surprised but all in all its been a pretty shitty couple of days and I’m just not up to heading to the school today. I’m sorry.”

There is a pause as Indra absorbs the information. Almost a minute passes before the woman’s deep voice crackles over the line “Lexa…You and Clarke are finished? Why? She was _good_ for you, Lexa. Are you sure it is really done? For good?”

Tears prick at green eyes and Lexa’s chest is tight when she replies “I’m too tired to get into Indra… but it _is_ over. I’m sorry to cancel on Aden but I won’t much fun today.”

 “Don’t worry about that… Aden will understand. But you are still coming over tomorrow for dinner, though aren’t you? I am making my special Jamaican jerk chicken, and sweet potato wedges… your favourite.”

A small, weak smile manages to make it to Lexa’s lips. “Can I let you know in the morning?”

Indra’s voice is uncharacteristically soft when she says “Of course, chicken. Have a rest and think about things but remember; if you don’t want to be alone tonight make sure you come over here. You can bunk with Aden.”

Lexa exhales a grateful sigh “Thanks, Indra.”

The woman’s voice returns to its normal firm brusqueness that Lexa knows and loves. “Call me tomorrow.”

Lexa mutters a soft ok in reply before disconnecting the call. After, Lexa stares hard at her phone as her fingers scroll through her contacts of their own volition until her thumb hovers over the call button beside Clarke’s name.

She thinks about doing it- about making that call. She thinks about the ways she could apologise, about how she could begin to explain but Lexa knows that she can’t. The thumb lingers for another minute but eventually Lexa switches the phone off and pulls back the covers, slipping under her thick duvet and burying herself in the mountain of covers that still smell like Clarke until she eventually falls into a restless sleep.

XXX

 

After storming from Lexa’s apartment Clarke strides down the rickety steps and after several attempts eventually succeeds in unwedging the main door and strides to her car, blinking back the tears that threaten.

She can’t say that she is surprised really, but still disappointment stews heavy and bitter in her belly all the same. Clarke feels stupid for even holding out hope that it could end differently but they were never going anywhere. Lexa said it herself; her affairs are none of Clarkes business and while it is a slap to the face, Clarke accepts it grimly. She can’t deny that it felt like she was fighting a losing battle just trying to get to know Lexa. It felt like she was fighting to _be_ someone to the other woman and that is not the way things should be. Clarke deserves more and as much as she likes Lexa, she knows it.

A tear tracks down her cheek as she drives and she wipes it away furiously. Clarke’s shift starts in little over an hour than an hour and even though she is exhausted she will be grateful for the distraction. There is no time to nurse a broken heart when there are lives on the line and at least it will get Lexa, and the shitty situation out of her head for the evening.

Clarke drives home Brixton and showers off the fatigue, then slipping into her scrubs and then absently eats a piece of toast. Even though they’ve only been dating a short time, things will change now that they are finished. For months now, Lexa has made herself a solid fixture in Clarke’s day to day, first as a friend and later as more and her sudden absence from Clarke’s like will be a difficult adjustment. The words “mistake” still sting as sharply as a slap to the face and the thoughts don’t leave her alone until she is back at the hospital. Numbly, Clarke packs her way her things in her locker on autopilot. She then directs her attention to her roster, groaning dramatically when she sees which service she is down for.

Clarke heads towards the elevator, her mood lower than ever as she touches the button for the top floor to the Elite private ward. The Elite ward is Clarke’s least favourite service because she vehemently ethically opposes the department and all it stands for. The doctor fundamentally believes all people deserve equal medical care, no matter what colour, creed, or how poor or wealthy a person is but as she found out when she started practicing medicine; this is not the case.

Wealthy or high-profile patients are always willing to pay more for luxury, even in a hospital. What really bothers Clarke is not only are the Elite patients better cared for, more comfortable and better fed, but it’s an unspoken rule that the wealthier patients jump to the top of this hospitals waiting lists. Worse still they can afford cutting edge treatments that the average person could only dream of, treatments that should be available to everyone.

Her blood boils every time she is on the ward, and it is a struggle to get her head in the game especially when she is already so fried by what happened this morning. Clarke sighs again, as the doors slide open and miserably steps out into the bright and pristine ward. Clarke jumps as someone jubilantly shouts her name and turns to see a harried, but still handsome Wells Jaha striding towards her. Clark’s heavy heart lifts slightly as her feet leave the ground when Wells picks her up and pulls her into hearty bear hug.

Wells is Clarke's oldest friend, each of them having grown up together and later studied together when both decided to follow in their parent’s footsteps by going in to medicine. Like Clarke’s mother, Wells father also serves on the Hospital board but the young man is a fantastic doctor, and despite jealous hospital gossip he really deserved his place in the program and works tirelessly to get out from the shadow cast by his father.

The blonde contentedly inhales the scent of his subtle cologne and the smell that is simply Wells until he puts her back down and pulls back to look at her. His face is bright and open, his wide handsome smile is warm. “Griffin! Where the hell have you been?”

Clarke tries to laugh, but its empty and small when she quips “Nowhere good, Wells. How are you?”

Wells studies her a moment, casting her a look of concern before his beeper buzzes and he casts it an irritated glance. Reading the line of text with a sigh, he looks back up at Clarke with a pained plea “Clarke, I know it feels like it has been forever since we’ve seen each other and I hate to ask… but I need a favour.”

Clarke chuckles good naturedly “Sure. What’s up Wells?”

The taller man plays with the chart in hand agitatedly as he snarks “I need your help on a consult. The patient is… difficult so say the least and frankly an arsehole. He wants a second opinion about his pain medication and he is a good friend to Mr Wallace’s so...”

Clarke wordlessly holds out her hand for the chart, that Wells hands over with a relieved smile. Clarke looks at the room number before walking down the hall to one of the largest rooms in the ward. She enters the room and takes in the angry, well-built man in the bed with one leg elevated on pillows and a support wrapped around his neck. 

Clarke gives the patient a cursory smile and begins to read from the chart “Mr Emerson, I am Doctor Griffin… just tell me if there is anything amiss here on your chart. You are 37 years old, blood type A, admitted for a broken right knee and contusions to your trachea. Is that correct?” Clarke looks up expectantly into the cold grey eyes of the patient in the bed. 

The man crosses his arms and nods once, a deep frown etched deep between sandy eyebrows as he eyes the doctor disdainfully.

 Clarke glances through the rest of the information and moves to the side of his bed “Very good Mr Emerson. So, I can see in your notes that you have requested a second opinion regarding your pain management?”

The man nods again and tries to speak, but his voice is a nothing more than an unintelligible, harsh wheeze. “Mr Emerson, you have sustained substantial damage to your trachea and larynx, I advise you to avoid speaking for at least a week and to try and keep your head as immobile as possible. Now, regarding your pain management, I am afraid as Dr Jaha already pointed out, you are already on the maximum dosage of painkillers; pre-op. I could perhaps give you some paracetamol, but that’s all you can take before the operation on your knee this afternoon.

Mr Emerson scoffs and rasps a word that sounds vaguely like “Vicodin.”

Clarke sighs, having encountered this problem before. Some wealthy patients aren’t used to hearing the word no, and often view doctors as just another extension to their staff thinking they can demand whatever they please.  Clarke leans over the patient and takes the flashlight from her pocket and shines it into his eyes; noting an abundance of burst blood vessels. She steps back ad examines his neck and the thick purple band of bruising that encircles it clearly indicates strangulation.

Having concluded the examination Clarke steps back and speaks, preparing herself for the angry tirade sure to follow “Mr Emerson, as I have said you are on a lot of very strong painkillers. Painkillers that cannot be combined with other medications such as Vikadin. There is also the fact that exceeding the maximum dosage of any medication could cause irreparable damage to your kidneys and could also significantly increase the chance of complications for the surgery you will be having this afternoon.”

The man grunts angrily but Clarke powers on trough his complaints, her eyes on the suspect marks around the man’s neck “Mr Emerson… have you talked with anyone as to how you came across these injuries? The mark on your neck-“

Clarke is abruptly cut off by a dry cough behind her and she turns to see Dante Wallace standing in the doorway of the hospital room. He is smartly dressed as always, but his arm is bound with a splint and an unpleasant expression sits on his paunchy face. He strides into the room with purpose, tossing an offhand and curt “That will be all, Griffin.” as if expecting the doctor to just disappear.  
  
Clarke bites down her irritation at the dismissal and heads towards the door without a word. She exits but turns the corner, hovering just out of site of the open door and able to hear the quiet conversation happening within the room.

She strains to hear the low, cold voice of Dante Wallace. “Nothing yet, Emerson. I have my best men on it but they have turned up nothing at all so far. No name, no address or phone numbers were found. In the case, we found a small notebook written in some sort of code and a set of keys, unmarked and both are useless. However, I don’t want you to worry Carl… something will turn up. After all, even rats have to come out of their nests eventually.”

The tone of Wallace’s voice is menacing and Clarke feels the hair on her back stand on end. Clarke continues to hover, trying to catch more snippets of the murmured conversation but the sound of steps squeaking across the room bring her back to reality with a jolt. Clarke darts across the corridor and manages to snatch and open a chart from the station just as a mutinous Dante Wallace leaves Emerson’s room. He passes the doctor without sparing her a glance and she lets out a relieved shaky breath. The doctor was close to being caught eavesdropping on what obviously was supposed to be a private conversation and Wallace really doesn’t need another reason to have it out for Clarke.

But her curiosity is piqued and _it is_ strange that both Dante Wallace and Carl Emerson are both injured. Then again, maybe Dante Wallace is responsible for the marks on Mr Emerson’s neck, but then again if that was the case why would they be looking for someone, and putting so many resources into tracking them down? Clarke can’t help but feel for the mystery stranger if that is the case, because Clarke gets the feeling being on Dante Wallace’s bad side is a dangerous place to be, and it’s only a matter of time before they will be found. There is something about both men that makes Clarke’s skin crawl but her attention stolen when her pager buzzes on her hip signalling incoming ambulances, coming from the scene of a car accident.

XXX

 

Clarke rushes from the ward down to the trauma centre, solely focused on the hours of triage to come and all thoughts of Lexa, or Dante Wallace are pushed aside. She works frantically to save the lives of three teenagers who were joyriding in their parents car, before the car skidded on a patch of black ice, right into a tree.Seven hours later Clarke is washing the blood from her hands, exhausted but elated. All three teens pulled through and even though one had serious internal bleeding he has since been stabilised.

Dismissed for 48 hours, Clarke wearily changes out of her scrubs and trudges towards the tube beset by the familiar nagging desire to call Lexa. She wants to hear her voice, to tell her about her day and hear about hers, she wants nothing more than to fold herself into warm arms breathe in Lexa’s smell.

Her mind flashes back to warm dinners at Clarke's rickety table, kissing wine off each other’s lips Lexa’s hidden smile, tucked behind her coffee cup. She remembers the heat of Lexa’s tongue against her own, and the soft weight of her hand. She recalls the jokes, and Lexa’s rare laugh. She pictures the way green eyes sparkled, and how her cheeks and ears pinked whenever Clarke pulled her in for a kiss.

But she also recalls the deflections. The poor excuses and the anger and resistance when Clarke pushed for answers. Clarke remembers the detached look in Lexa’s eyes when she declared their relationship a mistake and it all hurts. It hurts but Clarke must accept that whatever there was between them is over now.

 She doesn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry that she has the next two days off because even though Clarke is exhausted, she doesn’t want to be left with free hours to think, or feel about any of it.

The rest of the journey back to Brixton passes in a daze until Clarke finds herself in front of her door, fumbling for her keys.She eventually digs them out of her cluttered bag and lets herself into her warm little house and strides straight to the fridge, not even bothering to take off her coat.

Unceremoniously tugging open the door of the fridge, Clarke grabs a drying glass on the sideboard and pours herself a large glass of wine; sipping deeply and revelling at the feeling of the frigid, sweet liquid slipping down her throat. After a few hearty gulps Clarke refills the glass and tosses bag on the table before shrugging off her coat, flinging it on a nearby chair.

After a moments deliberation she decides not to take the phone with her upstairs because she knows her resolve not to call Lexa will disappear after a few glasses of wine. After all, if sober Clarke is itching to call her, talk to her and fight, to maybe hash things out and ask her _why_ things ended the way they did then tipsy Clarke won’t have a chance. With an unhappy grumble Clarke abandons the device and kicks off her shoes before trudging up the stairs, clutching her wine as she heads to her tiny studio.

Clarke walks in and looks at the large canvas, half unfinished. The rough outline is an abstract form of a woman; undefined, with long chestnut locks that tumble down a slender back and green eyes that burn through the oil paint. The painting though half-finished is filled with energy and movement; but the sweeping lines that wait to be defined will go unfinished. Clarke removes half-covered canvas from the easel and sets it down in a corner with a disappointed breath.

The piece of art-work was full of potential, filled with raw emotion, sweeping lines and bold contrast. It could have been one of Clarke’s best works to date but instead it will be left, incomplete until she has the strength to throw it away.

The young woman blinks back tears as she leans to pick up a fresh canvas and sets it into the now empty wooden stand. Clarke grabs her paints and stairs at the white fabric for a few minutes, letting the feelings she has been suppressing all day finally flood her. With a choked breath, Clarke dips the brush into the colour begins to paint, almost feverishly. Tears she doesn’t even notice are falling go unchecked, as the brush continues to dance. Clarke paints for hours, her emotions going from one extreme to the next until finally exhausted she throws herself into the cluttered divan that sits in the corner of her studio and falls into an instant, deep sleep.


End file.
